


Potters Echoes To Time Unbending

by JBSteele



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HMS Harmony Discord's Jily Meets Harmony Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 111,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBSteele/pseuds/JBSteele
Summary: Hermione decides that enough is enough. She is tired of the pain Harry is carrying from not having his parents. She decides to do what she does best, and do something about his pain. To her surprise, she succeeds. Now what? Response to The Jily Meets Harmony Challenge// I do not own Harry Potter. Also, as this is rated "Mature," there may be certain themes or descriptions that could trigger certain readers. Death Eaters aren't choir boys or the best choice for babysitters, you know.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 36
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

\- Author's note -

Here's the start of my answer to The Jily Meets Harmony Challenge. I think it will be fun.

Ok, this is writing. It will be agonizing, teethrending, hairpulling (what hair I have left anyway) and sleeplessnesss - for me. For you, it will be entertaining!

I hope. Tell me if otherwise.

Here are the terms for that specific challenge, from the HMS Harmony Discord group:

The Jily Meets Harmony Challenge

Must include:

James/Lily and Harry/Hermione strictly.

James and Lily must be alive. Either by surviving Halloween, coming back to life, or their canon deaths never happening/being avoided. (Can include either Time Travel or a Canon Divergence event)

Sirius should also live and be free/exonerated.

Lily must at some point braid Hermione's hair.

James and Harry must at some point fly together

Harry cannot have a Boy Who Lived (Or Wrong Boy Who Lived) sibling.

No Jily bashing

The story must be written for the challenge and mention the challenge by name in an Author's Note.

We hope for and highly encourage as many unique ideas as possible! However, if you are having trouble, here are a few possible scenarios that can be used to get you started:

Potential Scenarios to ensure #2 (Jily Lives):

Harry and Hermione try their luck with a ritual to bring his parents back to life. They are surprised it works.

During the time turner adventure of POA, Harry and Hermione do more than saving Sirius. They go back in time and end up saving them all.

James and Lily end up travelling to the future.

Harry and Hermione end up being given another chance at life. But have they gone to the past or is this a different dimension entirely?

Something happened that fateful night on October 31st that ensured the Potters lived to tell their tale...

Your story can involve anything from Harry and Hermione going back in time, the Potters going forward in time, the Potters never dying, the Potters (or Harry and Hermione) travelling to another dimensions... The sky's the limit!

Optional:

Line from James: "Are you sure you don't fancy Hermione?"

Line from Lily: "You know, Harry is lucky to have you."

Line from Sirius: "I'm trying to decide which pair of you lovebirds is more [_]."

Preferably avoids common tropes (overdone bashing, love potions etc)

This challenge has no expiry date. However, the HMS Discord is encouraging those who wish to participate to try to post their first chapter by October 31st. A night where James and Lily lost it all will now be used to bring them back to life. There is an AO3 collection and a FFN community to submit to and all entries will also be featured in the HMS Harmony Discord.

It's time for Harry to finally have a happy Halloween .

Now, the pre-movie credits have shown, the mind's theater has darkened, the crowd has quieted (except for that one guy on his cell phone. Someone throw popcorn at him.) On with the show!

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Chapter One

Hermione knew she needed to do something soon. There were only a few months away from Halloween, and something always happened on Halloween. It was something that Luna had mentioned, quietly, in private moments between the two while Harry and Ron were completely oblivious. The two young women had struck up a solid friendship over the last few years, which surprised them all in varying degrees. Luna was happy to have friends that didn't try to use her for entertainment or bullying purposes, which pleased her to no small end. Hermione was happy to have someone in her small circle that could keep up or even surpass her mentally, although the references to fanciful creatures Luna threw out every so often brought her up short. The bushy-haired girl was working on that. The illustrations that Luna made helped in some ways.

Well, the ones that involved Crumpled-horned Snorkacks and the other strange types did. It was the ones Luna did of a certain green-eyed Seeker and Hermione that got her mind distracted. Luna had a talent for art and with her excellent eye for color and perspective, she was able to tease out drawings and paintings that Hermione could swear was alive on the pages. The movement implied on the page, or the sparkle in the eyes, or maybe the emotion in an expression. And truly she wanted to swear at some of the ones that Luna would sneak into her books. Every time her red face came into view of Luna's dreamy stare, the younger girl's gaze would sharpen, she would smirk quickly at Hermione and turn away.

Hermione knew she had to do something, and if Luna's antics didn't stop it would be done way before Halloween.

The house elves that took care of Gryffindor Tower wouldn't have as much housekeeping either. After a particularly 'good' one, her sheets were very rumpled and sweaty. Of course, 'good' was relative in this case. Hermione didn't know what, if anything, house elves gossiped about. Dobby probably corrupted them all on that score and he would do anything for Harry. She was sure that the slightly insane elf was in cahoots with Luna. Dobby loved Luna too, but even as strange as the two of them were separately there was one simple fact that couldn't be ignored as far as she was concerned. Luna was evil. That was all there was to it. Such a sweet, innocent appearance, as Harry called it.

Harry was an idiot. A bumbling, blithering idiot.

Luna was really a raving madwoman. Hermione was sure of it. Oh, sure, the little Ravenclaw appeared to be quiet and demure - according to what others saw. The latest picture Luna somehow made materialize in Hermione's Arithmancy book, right at Chapter Twelve, showed Hermione and Harry on his broomstick over the Black Lake during a full moon and nothing else. Not a stitch. Nothing flapping in the breeze of a moving broomstick that looked like fabric of any kind. There was a corner of her mind that wondered how Luna knew Harry's dimensions, so to speak, and his musculature so well. Not to mention, her own. How? What unknown ability did Luna have that she had hidden away and did Harry know about it too? And did Harry know her 'dimensions,' too? Hermione was sure that he didn't know her 'dimensions,' but she had to wonder about Luna - yet again.

She slammed the book shut, feeling her face heat up, the sudden noise attracting the attention of Professor Vector.

"Miss Granger? Do you have a question?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, I was momentarily confused, but it came to me."

Oh, no, not confused at all. Thanks to Luna and her artistic abilities. It didn't help her with her coursework. The professor squinted at her for a moment, but decided to take Hermione at her word and nodded. The lecture continued as a whisper sounded in her ear.

"Luna got you again, huh?"

Hermione jumped. Katie Bell was grinning at her, having obviously seen the picture. Hermione looked at the other girl, whose eyes flicked at the still-closed book.

"She got him right, too, let me tell you." She pretended to fan herself.

Hermione's eyes got wide, and she speared Katie with a scandalized look. She checked to see where Professor Vector was standing, which was at the board with chalk in hand.

"Katie! How do you know?" The whisper was as sharp as she could make it without attracting unwanted attention from around them.

There was a big smile on the Chaser's face.

"The Gryffindor Quidditch team has their shower rooms built close by. There's peepholes in certain places. Luna may or may not know where they all are. That may or may not explain her... accuracy."

Katie shut up while Professor Vector walked away from the board to continue with her lecture. Hermione tried to do her best to pay attention to the lecture. Katie's grinning presence next to her didn't help. Professor Vector went back to the board to illustrate her next point in the lecture and the moment her attention went to the board, Katie leaned over again.

"Harry's got nothing to be ashamed about, let me tell you. He's grown up to be a real hunk of a man. When are you going to claim him?"

Hermione almost slammed the book shut again at the saucy question. She managed to stop it, but just barely. It had taken some deft manuevering to hide the demon woman's artwork that Katie had already seen, but it would do no good to attract the professor's attention again. Hermione glared at the other girl.

_"What?!"_

The reply came through gritted teeth. Katie leaned closer to her ear.

"Oh, girl. You poor, poor girl. Harry is clueless, but that doesn't mean you need to be. He's a male which explains his cluelessness, but what's your excuse?"

Katie shut up again as Professor Vector faced the class again to talk about the relationships between logarithmic scales and a spell's power output. A part of Hermione's mind was duly recording the lecture, but another part had her attention. Her, clueless? That was insulting, really. How could she be anything but that?

Professor Vector called on a few of the others to check their comprehension of the subject matter, before moving on the next part of the lecture and turning back to the board. Katie immediately leaned in.

"We've all seen it. He'd do anything for you. Fred and George have been running a pool since first year on when you two will get together. It's a common discussion at the Triple W. Ron has no idea about it."

Hermione stiffened. The amusement from the girl next to her was palpable, but any reply to her was cut off by the professor facing the class again. There was nothing else said for the next few minutes, and Hermione was begging for the class to be over soon so she could interrogate Katie. If she didn't get answers, Gryffindor would be down a Chaser for the next game. It felt like an eternity before Professor Vector went back to her blackboard and picked up the magical chalk. Hermione turned her head a little, knowing Katie would be right there.

"That boy dotes on you and would walk through fire for you. In fact, the rumor is that he did just that his first year. He'd do it again, too."

"He did, and I know he would. I've got a free period after this class. You better have a free period too. We're going to have a girl talk."

Katie smirked again, and moved her hand over to grab the picture Luna had rendered. Hermione had put it face down under her book cover and slapped her hand away.

"Feeling possessive are we, girl? Something tells me you made your mind up. What's the hold up?"

Katie leaned back, her face the very model of an attentive student. Hermione wasn't fooled in the least. Sure enough, when Professor Vector turned back to the board, Katie smirked again.

"Hurry up with getting that date on that pool. Don't want to disappoint Professor McGonagall. She's got a lot riding on you two."

Hermione's eyes widened, but Katie refused to say anything else for the rest of the class period.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

After the class let out, Katie casually walked over to an unused classroom. She knew that Hermione would follow. When they entered the classroom Katie threw up as many privacy and locking spells as she knew. Bemused, Hermione decided to buttress Katie's spells with her own. This had to be good. Or bad. She hadn't come to any conclusions quite yet.

"So where are Harry and Ron this class period?"

"Ron's in Divination and Harry has a free period. He's most likely on his broom."

Hermione knew, of course. Katie nodded at the prompt answer and gave her that irritating grin.

"Of course you knew. Good, we won't be interrupted. So ask away. I know you want to. It's eating you up alive, isn't it?"

It was, but Hermione knew very well she didn't want to admit that. She also knew that Katie knew it too.

"Yes, it is, you irritating witch."

Katie chortled at the waspish tone.

"That's 'Witch' with a capital 'B,' and we both know it."

Hermione blew her bangs off her forehead, and Katie chuckled.

"All right, Hermione, I'll behave. Mostly."

Hermione snorted.

"Okay, so that didn't sound convincing even to me. Look, I'll be straight. The two of you have been dancing around each other for years, and the suspense is killing the rest of us. Ron thinks he's interested in you, if the way he acts is any indication but let's be honest. He's a berk of the highest order and you're so far above his level it's not funny. With him, what you see is what you get. If it's not Quidditch, chess, or food, he's just pitiful at looking halfway competent. He might grow up soon hopefully, but I have to wonder."

Hermione nodded. She really couldn't disagree with that.

"So, forget Ron. Harry has a lot of depth in him. Still waters and all that, you know? The rest of us have eyes, and regardless of peepholes we on the team have always considered him our little brother. Not that he's so little anymore! Rawwwwr!"

Hermione's thoughts went to that demon woman's drawing and blushed unwillingly. Katie guffawed at her reaction.

"That boy loves you, whether he knows it or not. Look at all the things he's done for you, starting with that troll. He jumped on the back of a stinky, ugly, vicious troll for you! Granted it probably wasn't the best course of action but he was eleven. And that Chamber business, too! He stayed at your side when you were petrified."

"But what about Ginny? He went after her in the Chamber!"

"What about her? He was the only Parselmouth in the school that could have went after her? Ginny is not his type." Katie frowned. "Or do you think he'd be happy with a girlfriend that looks a lot like his mother?"

Hermione choked at that thought.

"Ugh, Katie... Did you have to put it that way?"

"Tell me about it. I've seen that picture of Lily Potter. She was a beautiful woman, but just because Harry looks like his dad doesn't mean he's automatically going to go for a woman that looks like his mom. Yuck."

The two shared grimaces at the thought.

"And Molly Weasley is too fond of the idea of Ginny and Harry together. Don't get me wrong, Ginny's pretty smart and pretty too, but she's not you. Still, would you want to have Harry live a life with Molly looking over his shoulder the rest of his life?"

Hermione shook her head so hard she got dizzy for a moment.

"Yeah, I didn't think so either."

Katie was quiet for a moment to let Hermione settle down.

"There's another thing, too. There's more than a few gold-diggers in this castle looking to get a piece of Lord Potter. I'm not going to deny that I thought about that myself, but let's face it. That's the team's little brother even if he's not so little anymore. He needs to find himself a Lady Potter that sees him as somebody other than 'The Boy Who Lived.' You know he hates that, right?"

"With a passion."

"I can't blame him, either. That nickname comes from the night his parents died."

Hermione's eyes suddenly filled with tears. Katie noticed and gave her a handkerchief.

"Katie, I wish there was a way that he didn't have to live his life without his parents."

A hard look came over Katie's face, and for a moment Hermione thought she had said or done something wrong. Katie saw the expression on her face and waved it off. She sighed in sad agreement.

"So do I, Hermione. I don't think those _people_ he goes back to every summer appreciate him, much else love him."

The way that she spat out the word 'people' left Hermione with no doubts of her feelings on that subject. Her own face hardened and Katie noticed.

"You know more, don't you?"

"Yes, but I can't say it. I would be breaking a confidence."

"Oh, don't worry. The Quidditch team knows about the scars on his back, chest, and legs. Peepholes, remember? The first time we girls saw them, we thought he heard us scream. It didn't take long for us to get dressed and get out before he could come looking. Thankfully he didn't."

Katie's lips had compressed into a thin line that Professor McGonagall would have been proud of. Hermione could see the fire in the brown eyes which she was sure matched the same in her own eyes.

"If I could, I would have my mum and dad take him in over the summers."

Katie grinned again, the fire in her eyes banking back a good bit. Hermione could see that the memories of a young, scarred Harry Potter still infuriated her but that was something that she could control. The chance to tease the bushy-haired girl in front of her wasn't.

"You'd love to _take him in,_ wouldn't you?"

Hermione's face was tomato-red, but she didn't deny it. To be honest, she wasn't sure if she could speak since her throat was tightened up.

"That-a-girl. Admit what you want. And I know you haven't actually said it, but that face looks hot enough to fry an egg on it and says it for you."

She glared at the Chaser, furious at herself for not being able to control her reactions. Katie leaned back against the wall quite casually and felt very amused at the other girl steaming.

"There's another thing, too."

"What?"

Hermione ground this out, narrowed eyes promising retribution on the other girl for the amusement that was totally uncalled for.

"If you don't get a move on, you'll either be left behind or have to share him with some other girls. Did you know that there are about six or seven girls making up a harem for 'The Boy That Lived?' Except it wouldn't be 'The Boy that Lived,' it would be 'The Man that F…'"

"I get it!" Hermione shouted, cutting her off. Her face was really getting hot. Katie wasn't grinning this time and that told her just how serious the other girl was being.

"Hermione, I'm not trying to take the mickey out of you this time, no matter how fun it might be. I don't want him hurt and I don't trust Ginny or Ron. I'm not trying to bash them, please understand. Luna is trying to get you to get a move on, too."

 _"That's_ what that is?"

Katie snorted.

"Okay, I grant you, little Luna probably has her own thoughts about it late at night. She doesn't want him hurt either, and like you, she'll follow him through the Gates of Hell and cast _Aguamentis_ and _Glaciuses_ everywhere. She's more concerned about him and what's going on against him than any of the Ravenclaw bullying of her going on."

Hermione reluctantly agreed. She could see that. Katie went on.

"And quite frankly, if it meant he'd be safe from the vultures, she'd share him with you."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"What?"

"You heard me. Lord Potter needs a good wife, and again quite frankly, it doesn't need to be any of those hussies. It needs to be someone he can trust implicitly, someone that can keep up with him, and someone that can keep his nightmares away."

Brown eyes darted up to see brown eyes.

"You know about his nightmares?"

Katie shrugged.

"People talk. In this castle? With Lavender and Parvati? There's a Harry Potter secret in these stone walls?"

"Okay, you may have a point. But what's this about Luna?"

"You know I have a point, probably better than I do. But about Luna, well, I think she's a Seer. She's constantly mentioning things that I don't see how in the world that she could have seen or witnessed. I'll never ever again play poker against her."

"Poker? Luna?"

"Yep. She cleaned me, Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George, _and_ Lee out. She has no tells and no problems bluffing."

"Huh… what did she win?"

"Let's just say she doesn't have to lift a finger for anything she wants done for the next three months. No matter what."

"No matter what?"

"Nooooooo…"

"That could be anything, where Luna is concerned."

"Exactly. And that's where Harry comes in."

"Harry? How does Luna playing poker have anything to do with Harry?" Hermione's eyes narrowed at Katie.

"Hermione, we all know that you have him wrapped around your finger. If Luna wanted, she could wrap him around her finger too without playing poker. Harry would be wrapped around two little fingers and he'd be beyond happy."

Hermione's eyes were so narrowed down now she was surprised that she could even see. Katie had that damnably irritating grin on her face again.

"Put your claws back in, girl. Luna won't ever tread on your property – not that you've ever staked your claim. Speaking of that, again – when are you going to claim him?"

"But…"

"If you don't, somebody else will! I know it, Luna knows it, others know it, and you know it. Better get your claim in now. And if Luna has to claim him to keep him safe, she'll be Lady Potter. She would share him but you'll just be a concubine. Luna would rather be a concubine herself so that she could continue the Lovegood name, but if it means letting the name go extinct to keep him safe from money-grubbing harpies, she'll do it! What are you going to do? You know you love him."

Hermione stared at Katie, shocked to her core. She couldn't deny any of what the other girl was saying to her. Katie pressed on.

"Never mind 'Lord Potter' for a moment. Think about Harry. Grew up abused, unloved, starved, first real friends he ever had was when he came to Hogwarts." Hermione could see the tears in Katie's eyes. "Things that a lot of us don't have a clue what it was like for him. Things that people think could never happen to 'The Boy-That-Lived,' thanks to those books they grew up on. The real Harry needs someone that can protect him."

Hermione had to agree, especially when she heard Katie's last sentence come out of her mouth.

"And who better to protect him than a lioness?"


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Lord Voldemort sat quietly, thinking about a certain part of his plans. He was waiting for word to come to him in order to put yet another part of those same plans in motion. It was fairly time-sensitive, he thought, as some of his other plans were but he was unworried.

He sat back with a cup of tea. In his younger days, he had tried coffee and was singularly unimpressed. Now he heard some of the younger recruits talk about something called ‘pumpkin spice latte.’ That sounded worse, in his opinion. He’d rather drink black coffee, as disgusting as it was, than whatever that abomination was. Severus drank black coffee, of course. The Dark Lord didn’t understand the allure of that any more than the pumpkin drink but figured to each his own. Bella loved it, of course. Any of the younger ones that forgot or messed up her ‘PSL’ was in for a world of hurt.

He shook his head. He never thought being a Dark Lord would have think like this! As long as he had his English Breakfast tea, he would let the lower ranks have their silly arguments. He could always kill them and get more.

That prompted a thought. He put the teacup down and sat forward. Nagini flicked her tongue over the teacup and slithered off.

There was something that needed to be done in the few months before Halloween. As Halloween was the single day of the year that the dead was the magically closest to the living, preparation was the key. To be frank, he had been putting this off for the last few weeks but he had no excuse now. He didn’t want to have to wait another year, after all.

Voldemort pulled a parchment toward him and studied the information that he had recorded on it. The listings of properties that his Death Eaters had procured – such a better word than ‘stolen’ after all – was there. He considered it carefully and made a decision.

The Death Eater standing by the door nearly wet himself when the Dark Lord focused his attention on him. Standing post here carried that risk of course, especially if Voldemort was inclined to let a _crucio_ loose. The man forced himself to stand tall and look competent. At what, he was disinclined to wonder. At least with _him_ in the room and getting closer.

“Bailey.”

The man stood even more stiffly than before.

“Yes, my lord!”

“Find Geffrey Thurstan and send him to me in the meeting room within the half-hour. I have some things to discuss with him before I send him off with duties to perform. You may tell him that. I have no wish to be disturbed before then.”

He waved the man off.

“Yes, my lord!”

The Dark Lord was amused by the alacrity the underling showed in leaving his presence. It was almost _fear,_ which was a good thing. He didn’t want his subordinates getting ahead of themselves trying to one-up each other. Give simple orders, expect results. Give complex orders, expect problems. He’d learned that in his first job out of Hogwarts. Of course, ‘Tom Riddle’ had another purpose for that job but it was still a good life lesson to build toward his current station.

In the meantime while he waited, there was still a few things to see to before his meeting. Proper planning and all that, of course.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Twenty-nine minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Voldemort checked the clock and was impressed. The man had managed to find Thurstan within the time limit despite the obstacles placed in his way. Perhaps that one had potential. It was always hard to find good help these days.

He stood and addressed the door.

“Enter.”

Immediately the door swung open to reveal a relatively short man with quite an imposingly ugly face. Spell scars competed with burn marks and cuts to create a patchwork of nefariousness that was at complete odds with the beautiful tenor voice that issued forth.

“You called for me, my lord?”

“I did, Geffrey.”

“How might I serve you?”

“Come in and sit down. We have things to discuss. Make sure the door is secure.”

“Aye, my lord.”

The ugly man came in and slid a bolt home after closing the door. He placed his hand over a section of the door frame and pushed a bit of his magic into the wood. They both watched as the door transfigured itself into a solid piece, melting into the thick planks that made up the door.

Voldemort nodded at the man’s work and sat down, motioning to the chairs on the other side of the table. This table was polished cherrywood and gleamed under their hands. While he normally wouldn’t care what the table was, in this case it was one of the Founder’s personal tables that he liberated from Hogwarts many years ago.

‘Liberated.’ Such a lovelier word than ‘stolen.’ He had his desires, after all. After he completed his plans, then he would take the table back.

Maybe. He liked it a lot.

Putting the thoughts about the table aside, he looked at the other man without speaking for a bit. Thurstan sat without speaking, waiting for the Dark Lord to begin.

“I called you into my presence to ask you about the plans made years ago. Do you recall them?”

“Aye, my lord, as if done yesterday.”

“And how do they proceed?”

“The first part of the plans went without any problems. As you recall, in 1981 you wanted me to begin the ritual known as ‘The Agony of Rycharde.’ I gathered the materials and set aside the space necessary.

“I had the rooster’s blood, powdered limestone, the silver-laced candles, and the vial of your blood which you had given to me the day before. Using that, I inscribed the heptagram in the dirt and filled with powdered limestone and the rooster’s blood. Each point received three drops of your blood and the remainder went into the center. The candles went on each vertex and took a while to get alight, as I recall. It was a bit of a windy night that night.”

The Dark Lord understood. These things happened when outside, after all.

“I started the ritual without delay, and the magical shielding that the text described started to manifest, but it was slow in starting and I was wondering if I had done something wrong. I didn’t think I had, and soon it caught fire so to speak. I moved on to the next steps, since I didn’t have a lot of time and I needed to get this finished.”

The Dark Lord wondered about the slow start but put it off to vagaries in the translation. He gave the other man a ‘go on’ motion.

“Unfortunately, I was interrupted by an off-duty Auror pair by the name of Potter and Black. I remembered them from dealings I had with them in the past, but I doubt they had identified me.”

“Off-duty?”

“Yes, my lord, or at least not in their Auror duty robes. They were dressed in Muggle clothing and had a woman with them.”

“A woman? Did you see who it was?”

“No, my lord. All I know is that it was a very feminine voice shouting at them. She didn’t sound happy with either of them at all, not that I blame her. At that point I wasn’t able to make out her features since the shielding was racing up.”

Voldemort grimaced, but said nothing about this and waved for the man to go on.

“They tried to stop the ritual by physical force, since the magical shielding was erected and in force. As you know, once that happened, no spell fire known then or perhaps even now can intrude from the outside of the circle.”

Voldemort was still displeased but wanted the other man to continue.

“What happened then?”

“The pair managed to make contact with the shield with their hands and had at least a foot each on the circle before I could repel them. Fortunately, I am ambidextrous and was able to use my right hand to continue the ritual and my left hand, holding my second wand, to fire at all of them. Due to the constraints of maintaining the ritual at the proper power level, I could only use stunners. Anything more was impossible.”

“Understandable. You did well there.”

“Thank you, my lord. I do wish that I had been able to cast the Killing curse, but as it were I was wrung out. The Aurors and the unknown woman had been knocked out, insensate, away from the circle and I finished the beginning of the ritual.”

“Were there any noticeable changes due to their interference?”

“My lord, truthfully, I could detect no changes at all. The ritual completed with the color indicated by the writings of Rycharde himself, a dull bronze limning the circle and all runes. I felt the magic drain on my core and there was a distinctly green haze in the air. Inside the circle there was a good deal of heat and I remember it feeling almost oppressive. My shirt was sticking to my back. Once I left the circle, everything disappeared in a clap of thunder. It threw me and the others into the wall.”

Voldemort agreed. This was exactly what was listed in the dusty tomes he had found years ago. There seemed to be no reason to believe that the interference Thurstan related had caused any problems. It looked to him as though everything was properly done.

“Anything else?”

“Aside from those three getting knocked further unconscious, not much. The only thing that I personally noticed was this,” motioning to his facial disfigurements, “not all of this, mind you, but the burns that hit me during the ritual. Nothing to be done for it, and I knew it was going to happen going in.”

“Very good. Although there’s nothing to be done for the burns, as you know. You’ve done well however, and I have the second half to be completed before this Halloween is here, which matches with the half that you completed before Halloween of ‘81. I need at least fifteen years between halves to perform this ritual properly, anyway. Have I summarized your report correctly?”

“Aye, my lord, you have.”

“Will you be able to complete this ritual?”

“I will, even should it require of me my life.”

Voldemort smiled.

“I’m pleased to hear that. Now you need part of myself to complete the ritual. If you misuse it, you will be dead and your line cursed before you finish your betrayal.”

“Aye, my lord. I know.”

The other man looked into his red eyes, allowing Voldemort to search his memories and confirm this for himself. With a snort, the Dark Lord withdrew an empty vial from his robes.

“It’s a good thing you allowed me to search your memories, or you would have been dead where you stood.”

Thurstan said nothing, but waited. Voldemort pulled a dagger from his robes and opened a small cut on his wrist to drain some of his blood into the vial. After it was full, he sealed the wound and vial. With another glance into the other man’s eyes, he handed it to Thurstan.

“Do not lose that. There will not be another.”

“Aye, my lord. I won’t.”

“Inform me three days before you perform the second half. I will not countenance failure in this.”

“Aye, my lord.”

He was waved out of the room. The door was unsealed and the man left quickly. Voldemort sat down to consider what else needed to be done before Halloween.

Half of the ritual had been performed and apparently flawlessly, despite the interference from Potter and Black. The woman might have been another Auror or someone from that office. It was no matter. At that time Potter was married, but Black was still single. Voldemort remembered that Black had been quite a rake in those days, so who knows who it had been.

“It doesn’t matter. I still have things to do and besides they aren’t here anymore. I can empathize with Potter about not having parents,” he muttered. “Enough. No point in thinking about the past. Too much to do now.”

So saying, he stood up. The door closed and sealed itself as he swept down the hall. His robes ghosted over the floor without a sound.

He was deep enough in his thoughts and planning that he didn’t notice the Death Eaters he passed cast glances at each other and sigh in relief. If he had, he would have stopped and made examples of them.

Discipline must be maintained, after all.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Geffrey Thurstan thought back over his interview with the Dark Lord while rubbing his Dark Mark absently and leaving the manor house. He had been worried that he was about to be killed when he got the summons. The man who had come for him seemed to be fairly perturbed but tried to impress on him how important the invitation had been. His worry had been enough that he was concerned about the fact that he didn’t have his will done yet.

When he found himself outside that door, he decided that getting a will completed was going to be the first thing he did. That afternoon, in fact. There were certain things that came along with having taken the Dark Mark of course, but the other things could be relegated to his sons and daughter.

He hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to them in the last few years since the Dark Lord had made his triumphant return. The moment he heard about that Triwizard Tournament he knew that something was up. Something that hadn’t been laid on for such a long time and now brought back? He talked to his children and he started to make plans.

Thurstan didn’t have a wife to worry about, since she had been killed in the strangest of ways. A farmer was building an irrigation ditch for his crops and he needed to divert some of the water from the river that meandered through his land. So the man had set up a miniature levee or dam system or whatever it was to send some water to his fields.Thurstan didn’t care what it was called.

Whatever magical work the man had done, he’d made a grievous mistake. The dam or levee or whatever it was looked for fluid to send to his crops. When his wife sat down on the banks of the river on a nice day to read a book and relax, the man’s work had latched on to her and drained every bit of blood from her body for the fields.

No one understood what happened and the predominant thought was that vampires had started an attack after a few others fell into the grisly trap. It wasn’t until the farmer’s daughter and her secret suitor was drained that something was discovered. Three Aurors had lost their lives to the voracious snare before the farmer made the connection.

The resulting trial and conviction was less than satisfactory for all involved, but had to be done. The farmer’s remaining family moved away as soon as possible, and he himself committed suicide in Azkaban. The magical drain had been stubbornly hard to remove, since the farmer wanted it to remain in all conditions, and six more people died despite magical warning signs.

It was only after the farmer died that the drain faded. By then, Thurstan had purchased the property and destroyed everything on it. The fields had lay fallow and unused since he had no interest in farming and didn’t want to sell it to anyone that did. It was remote and aside from those that traveled on the river, no one trespassed.

He had another purpose in mind for it, however. It was going to be the site for the next part of the Agony of Rycharde ritual.

Geffrey Thurstan had been an excitable young man when he took the Mark and subsequently undergone the Ritual. As it had been explained to him, this allowed the focus of the Ritual to gain a tremendous amount of power through the use of a rarely-studied branch of Earth Magic. The items brought into the circle and then used allowed for the boost in either power or capacity for magic to be used. There wasn’t a perfect way to tell which one would get boosted, but considering the stability of the Ritual itself it didn’t matter.

The long times between the two halves of the Ritual lent themselves to the stability aspect. The power grew steadily, in the same way as an oak tree. This long time called it ‘the teenager’s ritual,’ since many thought that with such power given, only an adult with hopefully an adult’s mindset would be capable of handling it. The thought of a teenager with the lack of control common to that age and with the power given from this Ritual caused many over the centuries to forbid the knowledge.

It didn’t matter, now. He was going to do this for his master, just as he’d promised. Right after he finished with that will. His eldest son would get the homestead that had been in the family for a century, the youngest son would get the business interests that he wanted and could handle. The daughter would get shuffled off to one of the available lieutenants in the Dark Lord’s employ. Her fate didn’t concern him too much.

Thurstan apparated to Diagon Alley once he reached the edge of the wards. He had things to do and arrange.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

The lobby of Gringotts was impeccable, as always. The goblin guards were the very image of discipline and toughness. The tellers were the epitome of efficiency and ability. Such was always to be expected from this institution that had been managing the money of wizards and witches for quite some time now.

Unfortunately, many of the customers of the bank couldn’t make the same claim.

Every day there was someone that forgot the key to their vault or vaults. Or perhaps someone that tried to access areas that they had no business with. Or on occasion, someone that that they had the smarts to help themselves to someone else’s gold. That always raised tempers more than usual.

Not for long, of course.

One of the tellers, named Dragonsoiler for his ability to tell the most outrageous stories looked out. There was something among the crowd that didn’t seem quite right but it wasn’t enough to mobilize the guards. It was a fairly steady day and the noise level was moderate. No one had caused any problems today and it seemed that everyone had things to do.

It didn’t bother him. If the wand-wavers came in, did their business, and left quickly, he was satisfied to see the back of them more than their fronts. In fact, some of them were more attractive going away. The goblins were rarely pleased to see any particular wizards or witches, although there were a few. Some of the oldest account holders fell into this group, but like any family there were some that one just couldn’t stand. Every teller had their favorites that did business with Gringotts, of course.

Sadly, the goblins wouldn’t be able to say that currently. Today was not a good day.

One of the wizards looked at the teller next to Dragonsoiler and expressed his opinion in most uncouth terms.

“What do you mean my account is frozen, you pile of dragon dung? It was perfectly fine last week, there haven’t been any withdrawals, and I haven’t made any changes! What is this?”

The head teller sighed at his raised platform. Today had been going _so_ well before now.

“Just another way to steal from wizards, huh? What next, you money-grubbing bastards? Going to make up some kind of ‘account maintenance fee’ and slap it on me? Or wait! I got it!”

The head teller pinched the base of his nose. He put a small sign on the edge of his area that read ‘CLOSED,’ and stepped down. He walked over to the unfortunate teller’s booth and identified himself.

“Excuse me, my name is…”

“I don’t care what your name is! I want access to my access and you will give it to me!”

“One moment. As I was saying, my name is…”

“Shut up! I didn’t ask your wrinkly ass what your name is! I told you what was going to happen!”

The wizard’s face was getting dark and there was a groan from the crowd behind him. Those in the crowd was waiting to conduct their business and this was not going to help them at all.

“Well, what’s the hold up? You’re not moving!” The wizard threw his arms wide in disgust. “I don’t think I should be surprised, since animals like you don’t know enough to get your act together!”

The head teller motioned his subordinate back and glanced at the paperwork.

“Mister… Wellham. I am Head Teller…”

“Ooo! Head Animal! Are you going to perform an act? Jump through a flaming hoop?”

“Sir, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to ask you to leave. You’re already risking being barred from the bank for a month.”

The fury on the face across from him doubled.

“The hell you say! _Reducto!”_

The head teller lost his head at this point, literally. The wizard’s wand draw was done at blinding speed and the spell lopped off the head teller’s head and the head of the teller waiting behind him. At the sound of the spellfire, the goblin security unit ran to apprehend the wizard but was stymied by the press of bodies.

Those that didn’t give way immediately were thrown out of the way. Wellham ran on the other side of a small group and used an overpowered banishing spell to throw the women and children in the group onto the drawn swords of the goblins. This caused more problems for both the goblins and the others.

The people waiting for service decided that it would be prudent to come back another time and broke for the exits. Their fear-compelled egress was further encouraged when Wellham started throwing _Avada Kedavras_ at both goblins and people who couldn’t get out of his way fast enough. The rage on his face convinced most to hurry right along.

The problem came when a little girl tripped. She was afraid, having picked up the fear in the crowd the way that little kids often do and she certainly didn’t understand what was going on. Feet stomped on her arm and leg in the rush and broke both of them. Her piercing scream started a panic. From there, it was pandemonium.

From where Wellham was hidden in the corner of the building, he had clear shots and picked off most of the security group. The tellers had dashed under their desktops for a moment and this shielded them until they popped up again. This time, they had swords in their hands and bucklers on their arms.

The crowd wasn’t doing well, since the little girl was in bad shape now and others trying to get to her were similarly treated. Their efforts were in vain and by this time six other people were being trampled. Wellham fired off several more spells into the crowd to keep them whipped up in fear and ducked out the doorway. There were no guards at the door to catch him, since they had come inside to try to manage the chaos in the building. As he ducked into a dark alley and made his way out into a small alley, he congratulated himself. Now if only he could get to Knockturn Alley, Lord Voldemort would be please. He simply had to find his way into the Dark Lord's presence, wherever that was again. For now, the Goblins were disrupted. The foul things deserved it, for all he was concerned. Should never have tried to crawl out from under wizard-kind's bootheels.

By the time that things were calmed down, it was simply beside the point to stay open since the main floor was a crime scene. Goblin investigators came in to work the scene and gather the few clues that they could. They knew that it was not going to be easy to reconstruct with all the foot traffic. There had been a lot of twisted ankles, cuts, bruises, several deep lacerations that left slippery blood on the polished marble floor. Three people were at St. Mungo’s with severe injuries.

The little girl, Lissy Lindon aged 7, of Colyton, had died of asphyxiation when her throat had been crushed by someone’s large foot in the panic to get out and avoid the mad wizard. The fear was still in the depths of her big blue eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Hermione had a lot to think about after Katie left. Sure, she had been thinking about a certain green-eyed boy over the years. That troll during their first year certainly gave her a good reason to be doing that. Not to mention any of a good half-dozen more adventures as time went on. Luna’s recent artistic endeavors merely fanned the flames that she felt deep down inside.

“I don’t want to mention to Katie how deep down inside, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” Hermione muttered amid her thoughts.

Katie’s ‘lioness’ comment had stuck with her, too. There was no question that she was that indeed. Not even the ferret could dispute that, not after the high speed introduction of her fist to his face. She knew about Ron’s comment ‘brilliant, but scary,’ and while she didn’t admit out loud she was a bit smug about it.

Still, there was something else that she couldn’t get out of her mind. Harry didn’t have his parents, and she wondered how he would have turned out if he did.

It was a thought that she’d had often lately and it seemed that it came around more and more as the year wound on to Halloween. Hermione was sure that it wore on his mind often at that time of year and it made her want to find Harry. Pull him off his Firebolt even, if she had to. She had a Hermi-hug to give him. Her talk with Katie made her realize that she wanted to share his burdens and help him. Wherever he’d go, she would.

_Whither thou goest…_

The thought wound its way into her brain and she seized on it. She didn’t know why it was so insistent on being heard but having given that thought more attention, Hermione knew where it was from.

As the story went, Ruth said that to her mother-in-law during hard times. She stayed with the older woman out of faithfulness when others left her and as the story continued found love and safety. One of her descendants went on to become another type of Chosen One, as it were.

Hermione didn’t want that to happen to Harry since his life was hard enough already, but she definitely understood faithfulness where he was concerned. If she could, she would take on everything for him so that he wouldn’t have to suffer any more.

“He’s done so much already,” she murmured to the empty room. A tear glistened on her cheek as it made its slow way down her cheek. Hermione didn’t notice it as another thought asked for immediate attention. This was more of a memory than a thought and the question she had was why so insistent?

“ _He’s done so much already,”_ the thought/memory repeated and Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized that it wasn’t her in the memory. It was her mother. Hermione dove into the memory, anxious to see why it made itself known now of all times.

-=(|-|)=-

Emma sat at the side of her husband’s hospital bed holding his hand. Dan was unconscious, having been medevac’ed from a conflict overseas during SAS service. Bullets had stitched a trail up the back of his torso during a firefight at a hot LZ as he fought a covering action to get his troops into the Chinook. She looked at her husband’s face, which was still while asleep, but she could feel that he was dreaming now that he was mostly out from under the anesthesia. It had been a long stretch of surgery to save his life and she didn’t know what was going to happen next. A low moan came from the figure on the bed.

“Dan?”

He moved, still out and the eyes under the closed lids jerked in REM sleep. His hand closed in hers. Emma hoped that whatever he was dreaming it was at least peaceful. She traded looks with the sergeant in the room that stayed with her. The young man had little Hermione asleep on his lap. The little girl had wrapped the tough fighters around her little finger and considering what her father had done to keep his men safe, well, they was going to help watch over both Emma and Hermione until he could resume those particular duties.

“It’ll just take time, Emma. Captain Granger is a tough one, no doubt. Tough as an old bull. Stubborn as one for that matter. We’re all waiting for him to wake up too.”

The voices woke Hermione up, but neither adult noticed. She stayed quiet, listened to the others talk and watched. Her daddy was hurt but after the crying jag yesterday and the assurances that he’d get better in a while, she’d calmed down. Now she waited.

“I worry about him every time he deploys.”

“Quite so. My wife as well. She and the others are getting together to help you with the little one here until things settle down, but they haven’t quite finished yet. Some time this afternoon. The docs decided that she could stay til then. I think they’re whipped by a little girl, too. Those big brown eyes of hers speak to them and they march to her orders.”

Emma chuckled, thinking about how well it worked on her father, too.

“Thank you, Bill. You don’t know how much that means to me. He’s done so much already and I feel helpless sometimes to help him.”

“You do plenty, just being there. You’re his shelter. The quiet cove he can go to when things get rough. Believe me, we all know it. You love him dearly and that love is returned. Hold on to it and know that he’s doing that every time we deploy. That’s what he’s doing right now.”

Emma wiped her eyes and smiled a bit wetly.

“You should be a chaplain.”

The sergeant scratched his jaw with his free hand.

“Eh, I thought about it, but then I’d have to give up all my pints.”

The woman sitting at the bedside snorted in muffled amusement while Hermione wondered what a pint was. She stayed quiet, wanting to hear more. Maybe she’d find out. Whatever it was, he must like them a lot.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“No, I’m sorry, not until the brass types decide it’s okay. You know how it is.”

Emma agreed.

“I do, but talking helps to pass the time.”

“True, true, but you know the phrase. ‘Operational Security.’ Well, that and some other phrases not to be spoken in polite company.”

Emma raised her eyebrow.

“And not to be taught to Hermione, right?”

The other man grinned.

“Surely not for her sensitive little ears. Think she’s awake?”

Emma didn’t reply, but nodded yes. The man grinned even wider and winked at her.

“Why, you little scamp. Spying on us, eh? Only one thing to do now with little scamps, according to military custom!”

The sergeant tickled the little girl, whose giggles revealed that she’d indeed been listening. Emma chuckled but soon turned her troubled attention back to her husband. She leaned over to kiss his warm cheek and whispered in his ear.

“Dan, I love you so very much. What happened to you? I’m worried. Come back to me.”

His hand tightened in hers again. This time there was a definite squeeze.

-=(|-|)=-

_The mission had been a bust. It had been an extraction of what was supposed to be a diplomatic team. A radical group of… something… had descended on the British embassy with heavy equipment and sharp blades._ _The s_ _evered_ _and charred_ _hand, foot, and certain other parts from the same person had been sent out as a gruesome calling card. This put the government on high alert._

_The group called themselves the Molten Fury of Fienyx and no one knew what the hell it was or who it belonged to. The Americans had no clue, although the gamers they had in the intel community said it would be a good name for a villain. The French and Russians said roughly the same thing, and so did the Arabs. Although with the Arabs, they usually had something else in mind along with the information requests. It was just business, or so they claimed._

_They did say that they had no clue, however. It was worrisome to them. No intelligence agency liked being in the dark about anything._

_The next question was where did the weapons come from? No one knew that either, although the few leads that had been generated only went so far before running into the most solid of brick walls. Lower-ranked NCOs and enlisted personnel from various militaries were caught, tried and sentenced according to their laws, but that was all that had happened for lack of further information._

_Then, something broke loose one day and a mission was laid on in a hurry. Captain Granger and his unit was given as much information as they had in the time available and sent in after a quick powwow on strategy._

_Things went wrong quickly and his hospital bed, Dan Granger’s mind replayed that day, looking for clues._

_The_ _embassy had sent out a message that it was being evacuated due to external attack but the signal cut off before any other information could be gleaned. As it was supposed to be already in enemy hands, no one knew what was right or wrong except that it had been authenticated as coming from the Deputy Chief of Mission using her codes. So, it had to be responded to. As far as everyone knew from all available information, the_ _noncombatants_ _trapped in the embassy were holed up in an underground shelter more suitable to nuclear fallout than conventional bombing. It still fit the purpose of protecting them, so the British Ministry moved._

_The insertion went smoothly, until it didn’t._

_There were people in hoods and cloaks covering dingy fatigues from surplus stores all over the globe. They stood fearlessly facing the incoming choppers. Every one of them had shoulder-fired missiles._

“ _HOT LZ! HOT LZ! Damn it, they have Stingers!”_

“ _Firing chaff!”_

“ _Now blow the shite out of them before they blow the shite out of us!”_

“ _Crusoe, Base! They have rocket launchers on us!”_

_It took some exciting minutes for the lead chopper pilots to beat down the resistance and the_ _passengers_ _in the trailing Chinooks were helpless to intervene. The evasive maneuvers didn’t help settle their stomachs, either._

_Captain Granger decided to have a word._

“ _Just a walk in the park today, eh boys?”_

_A few snorts were heard here and there. He made a big show of reaching for a not-so-permitted flask that everyone knew about and nobody said anything about. He took a few sips and burped when a particularly hard bump hit._

“ _Whoops. Excuse my poor manners, lads. We’ll have to just proceed as normal. It seems there’s some others out there with other ideas! Yeah?”_

_A few others spoke up, knowing what was coming._

“ _Yeah!”_

“ _The bahstards interrupted my nap!”_

“ _Your nap? What about my five-star meal?” This was met with groans, considering what the new cook was producing. It was less than admirable._

_Captain Granger listened in to a radio call sent to him. He locked eyes with his executive officer and rolled his eyes. The other man knew what he was thinking since he’d received the same message. The commander waved his flask in the air, took another sip and put it away._

“ _Lads, I have received a message_ _from Command_ _!”_

_The bantering fell out, except for a loud raspberry._

“ _I’m told that the odds are against us, and the situation is grim!”_

_Silence fell, except for another voice._

“ _So you mean Missus Granger caught you coming home late from the pub_ _yet_ _again?”_

_Laughter erupted._

“ _Yeah, and you want us to run interference_ _to get you home safely_ _?”_

_A third voice cut in. This one was thoughtful._

“ _I don’t know, Jimmy. Between Missus Granger and Hermione, that might be a hard objective to_ _accomplish_ _!”_

“ _Yeah, I feel bad for Captain Granger when she starts dating.”_

_Yet another voice interrupted. This one held fake shock._

“ _ **Him?**_ _What about the poor lad? Missus Granger will teach the lass everything she knows! She’s got a mean right hook_ _and a sharp knee_ _, you realize?”_

_The same thoughtful voice pondered this information._

“ _You have a point. Damned good point. No wonder the Old Man toes the line around the Missus.”_

_The banter continued in this vein and Captain Granger snorted. He’d taken the men’s thoughts off the upcoming action at his expense, and a corner of his mind agreed_ _at the dating crack with a shudder_ _. Whoever dated his Hermione was going to be in for it if he pissed her off. If she left anything for him_ _and her mother_ _, that is._

_Then there wasn’t any time for humor as the Chinook grounded. The group left the chopper and ran to positions. The calls back and forth to detail bodies found had their attention while the pilots took off for safety elsewhere filled his attention. Soon, hopefully, they would have their jobs done and it would be time to call the helicopters back and get out of here._

_He had a drink waiting, a wife to kiss, and a little girl to tickle._

“ _Cap! Down!”_

_The call was too late and he felt a burning pain slam into his side._ _He fell to a knee but saw a man with a pistol some distance away jabbering at him. Captain Granger returned fire and saw him collapse like a damaged marionette. This was a bad situation that had turned worse._

_All around his men, there were new opponents_ _with shoulder fired weapons._

_If that didn’t make things worse, he could see actual_ tanks _lumbering their way. How tanks that looked like nothing the British military had in their inventory came to be here, he didn’t know. He did know that he had problems. The tanks might have issues moving around in the tight confines the SAS unit was in, but he knew that wasn’t going to last long._

“ _This is going to be a right bollocking.”_

_Dan Granger would forever forget he muttered that to himself, even in the dreams that later returned to haunt him at night. He would remember the shouted command he gave, however._

“ _Blow the bastards to hell and back, boys. We have things to do tonight and it’s not dancing with these fools!”_

_There was a crescendo of gunfire as Captain Granger crawled over to the soldier carrying the higher power radio unit. It took a few tries to get Command to answer calls._

“ _Right. Of course this would be the time to take tea and visit the loo. Remind me to have a few words when we get back.”_

“ _Command, Crusoe, we read you.”_

“ _Crusoe, Command, large amount of enemy fire. This was a trap! We have encountered tanks and are in need of an extraction. Hot LZ, but if you don’t get here before those tanks make it here, there will be no LZ, over.”_

_There was a pause. Captain Granger couldn’t really blame them, but it was making his life harder right now._

“ _Command, Crusoe. Fall back,_ _help is on the way.”_

_Granger stared at the tanks, the radio in his hands and rounds zipping over his head forgotten at the moment. He could see the corpses of the British personnel from the embassy lashed to the front of the tanks. He recognized a good many of them. One of the Deputy Chief of Mission and the soldier knew then that the rest of the people were all dead._

_He relayed that to Command and threw down the microphone._

“ _Fall back! They’re coming to get us and we have to hurry!”_

_They didn’t have anything to combat the armor on a tank. The loadout they had selected before heading out was based on the intel that they’d received up to that point, and nowhere in the data were there any notes about tanks._

_They were screwed up one side and down the other, without dinner._

_There was a boom in the distance, and everyone knew it was one of the tanks firing off a round. No one knew where the round was aimed until it smacked into a large tree_ _three-quarters of_ _a kilometer to their right and forward._

“ _Are you kidding me?”_

_The general mutter was this, of professional offense, but if whoever was the gunner in the firing tank had that bad of aim, they would take it. Whatever helps._

_The faint sound of the choppers in the distance reinforced the_ _broad sense of possible escape from their problems, but it would be close. They saw the enemy soldiers, if that’s what they really were, run to keep up despite the return fire in from the SAS unit. Quite a bit of the return fire was very inventive, if they said so themselves._

_This didn’t help those that fell to the incoming fire, but none were left behind. Captain Granger squeezed off shot after shot from someone’s bloody rifle and this return fire against the line approaching slowed somewhat._

_Soon, the chopper arrived, slinging flares all around the embattled unit. This drove back two unseen lines of enemies that Captain Granger couldn't glimpse from his position, and gave the line he could see some problems. The ramp was already down and the loadmaster was screaming._

“ _Move! Get in here, now now now!”_

_It was the fastest load that any of them knew. It was especially fast when four more tank-fired rounds started to shamble toward them. The pressure waves from the rounds slammed into the wound in his side and made him lose his breath. Captain Granger could hear curses from the opposing line even over all the noise of the battle and while he didn’t know what language it was in, it sounded like the riflemen were cursing the tankers for hitting them._

_He grinned. Serves them right._

“ _Captain Granger! That’s all of us! We’re taking fire! Come ON!”_

_It was time for him to go. He turned to jump onto the ramp, seeing that the chopper was moving up slightly. The moment that he grabbed a pair of hands, he heard several bursts of automatic fire and saw the heads of two of his troops burst like overripe melons._

_At the same time, the pack he wore was shattered and he felt at least five more bullets rip into him. He was unconscious before he hit the unforgiving steel._

-=(|-|)=-

Hermione thought about that memory from so long ago. She’d been a child, of course, but a very observant child. She knew then that it was a serious situation and even though she was distracted by the sergeant’s antics in that hospital room, she remembered seeing her mother’s feelings toward her father during his injury. It was almost exactly the same thing that she was feeling toward Harry now.

_He’s done so much already._

That thought, verbalized unknowingly to the empty room reminded him of the things that Harry had gone through already. She didn’t want to itemize the list of things, but the brain that she carried around every time did it anyway. It didn’t shut up and she sighed, knowing that it would bug her until she went through it.

The Stone, first year. Well, between the discovery of magic, the troll, Fluffy, and events around the Stone, this was an action-packed year.

The Chamber, second year. Hermione couldn’t really say that was the highlight of the year. Harry had offered to let her see the memory of the event every time she got curious but she had always chickened out. His description of the basilisk was plenty enough for her.

The whole problem with Sirius and those dementors, third year. Enough said there.

The Tri-Wizard Tournament, fourth year. Oh, and the Yule Ball, although that was different in a way. She did enjoy that periwinkle blue dress and Viktor… well, enough said. Hermione grinned at the thought and continued.

The loss of Sirius, fifth year. This was just bad. The man was devoted to his ‘pup,’ and everyone knew it. Dobby referred to Sirius as Harry’s ‘Dogfather’ while talking to Harry and lately to her. The slightly insane little elf seemed to be as upset as Harry at the loss of the mostly ebullient wizard, and Hermione didn’t know if it was because of Harry being Dobby’s true master or if Dobby had spent a great deal of time with Sirius. She’d ask later.

The list ran its course then and Hermione sighed in relief even as she knew there was much more to it.The reaction of the school to various events and the mud-raking in the Daily Prophet just made things worse. Politicians doing their machinations didn’t help matters either and they both knew it.

It was hard on Harry. She knew. She saw it for herself, and apparently so did Luna. Possibly others too, if Katie was any indication. After all, he was the Quidditch team’s ‘little brother.’ Not that the ‘family’ hadn’t had their little spats, but they had a tight bond now. Hermione thought back to the memory she’d just examined, with her dad in the military hospital and the tears her mom cried over him when she thought young Hermione wasn’t aware.

Older Hermione had cried similar tears for Harry. She could remember several late nights with her curtains closed around her bed and silencing charms all around, with Harry on her mind. How many people did he have to hold his hand or hold him and cry for him without some ulterior motive and crocodile tears? Her organized mind pondered the question and spat back an answer as quickly as the question had formed.

It was a short list, indeed.

Herself and Luna. Maybe some others, but for sure the odd little blonde Ravenclaw after herself. Luna simply didn’t put herself before others.

There had been discussions with her mother. ‘Girl talk,’ which convinced her father that he really didn’t want to know and be embarrassed by whatever they talked about, which made mother and daughter smirk at his dignified exits to putter around in the garage. Dignified, if speedy.

He didn’t know that they could hear him muttering as he left about what a group of teenage girls and Emma could have been getting up to in their possible conversations and thankful Hermione hadn’t brought home any girls to gossip with.

Emma grinned and observed that his male pride needed some holes to relieve that pressure. Hermione smirked and said she would see what she could do later.

So far, she hadn’t done that since she wanted him to forget the comment. Hermione wasn’t sure who to bring home for Operation Puncture. Maybe Luna and Katie, and if she really wanted to shock him, Tonks. That would bring down the house, and that was before her Metamorphmagus talent.

Of course, considering that line-up it was an even bet on who would get shocked the most.

It was a funny thought, if potentially mortifying for her.

_But why? Is there anything about_ _claiming Harry_ _that would truly embarrass you?_

The worse thing about that thought was that it was Katie’s smug voice whispering in her mind. She tried to ignore that and thought about Dan’s reaction to the whole thing. It really was a very funny thought and the thought that he would forgive her and wrap her up in his arms at the end of the day made her smile. The safest Hermione had ever felt was in her father’s arms.

… _and wrapped up tight in Harry’s arms._

The realization made her heart stop for just a moment. That thought came to her, in Luna’s dreamy tones. Hermione just sat there, shocked. Of course she trusted Harry and even Ron. But the youngest Weasley brother didn’t make her feel as safe as Harry did. Ron could give her a hug – well, as long as he wasn’t stuffing his face or expounding on various Quidditch things or the other houses’ relative merits. Ron was a blowhard. It put her off to some degree.

But Harry. He was accepting, caring, and kind – as long as someone didn’t push his now-legendary temper off the cliff. It was usually Malfoy that did that. Fred and George had run weekly pools on ‘how the ferret would set Potter off,’ with generally lucrative results. Even Professor McGonagall had subtly partaken.

Hermione had always felt safe in his arms. She knew that without a doubt. She knew that there was no safer place in the castle. Hermione’s mind and heart agreed on that. But would she always feel safe? Were these doubts even valid or just angst?

What a stupid question. This was Harry she was thinking about. Of course she would. Her mind and her heart both knew that, even if her brain was being stubborn about it.

She also knew that her mind would pop up with another zinger. Sure enough, here it came.

_If you don’t, somebody else will._

“Of course somebody else will. He’s very eligible, according to that stupid Witch’s Weekly,” Hermione muttered.

_If you don’t, somebody else will._ The mental voice of Luna returned, more insistent. Hermione could almost see the grey eyes sharpen at her obstinance along with a sigh.

“I’m sure there’s a list of ‘ _somebody else’_ names somewhere.”

The mental-Luna nodded the same way the real Luna did when she pulled out her showstopper. Hermione knew it and was powerless to stop it, even if it was her own mind.

_And how many of those names on the ‘somebody else’ list would look after him like you have for years? How many would care for him? How many wouldn’t?_

This question crystallized a decision to her. She had to find Luna. There was something suddenly important for her to do and she needed the little blonde’s help. Hermione didn’t know where Luna would be at this moment, but that didn’t matter. Lunch was coming up soon. She had a goal. She had things to do, a plan to make, a would-be harem to thwart.

Hermione had a Potter to claim. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Hedwig was banking on a convenient thermal of air. It was a beautiful day as owls considered ‘beautiful’ in relation to daytime. She loved to fly as much as she loved bacon and her wizard, sometimes in that order, and she took every opportunity while she was here at Hogwarts to do just that. Her Harry didn’t need to have any mail delivered or his attitude adjusted – yet – and she was free to soar the skies until a meeting later. There was something she needed to look at but she wasn’t there quite yet.

Over the years, she had worked her way up the positions in the owls’ parliament. It didn’t take as long for her as some had intimated when she arrived. The upper roosts had their own pecking order, so to speak and she waited for the right time to destroy that.

The older owls instinctively deferred to her as one of their own. Indeed, old Gleamtalon knew it. He was the Speaker of the Owlery and no owl, not even a beautiful Snowy recently arrived treated him with anything less than the respect he’d earned. He was a force to be reckoned with. Every owl in the structure knew it. Any upstart with delusions of grandeur and feathers puffed up before the old owl soon found themselves in the care of Hagrid.

He also was less than impressed with the grade of the current Owl Members of Parliament. Too much whinging and fluttering and screeching and not enough consideration and deliberation. He’d seen too much of the less than useful behavior in his long life as a magical owl and he despaired to see what was going to happen after he was gone.

The Hogwarts Owlery was the preeminent place of being for magical owls. All operations were coordinated from here. Some of the two-legged magical beings might considered that ugly Ministry building the base of their political power, but the owls knew better. There was only one place currently for Operations to be based, and Hogwarts’ triple-leylines placement was the reason for it.

The owls recharged their magical abilities here as they went about their business and managed the business of owlkind. Gleamtalon held meetings here, received reports, and dispatched delegations as needed. Several High Commissions had been seen off in the centuries past, with acceptable results. Such work was coordinated with the Master Conspirator, the Head Raven posted at the Tower of London. It was his job to liaise with those in contact with the Sovereign.

Gleamtalon respected Her Majesty, having met her as a young owl before taking his first post a few years or so after her Coronation. As she had grown into her job, so had he. During the few quiet moments, he looked at the happenings of the Royal Family and either approved or disapproved without mentioning why to another owl. There was no indication which way the scale tipped and he felt no need to explain his thoughts.

It wasn’t just owls that visited the Owlery. Over the years there had been visitors to the ancient structure that the wizards would have thought were outright enemies. However, diplomatic rules of conduct and the ancient rules of magical parley applied. There had only been a few breaches and Hogwarts had not been amused. Such conduct took place on her grounds after all.

One of the most recent was the half-Kneazle known as Crookshanks. The younger owls eyed him warily, knowing that the claws he had and the sheer weight he carried was dangerous. Whenever he made his way into the Owlery’s foyer, there was always a perturbed rustle of feathers. Gleamtalon was always amused at this. Any feline visiting the Owlery was surely something to be aware of and the sharp teeth and claws to be wary of.

As now, when he looked down to see the orange fur stroll in and head to the right. There was a conference room that they always used for their meetings. He heard a screech and a hiss followed by a meaty slap and a squawk.

_Oh, my. Who was it this time?_

He would find out later when he got the report from Scornglare, the Owlery’s medic. She was always very unamused when another owl was hurt through stupidity, although she and Crookshanks got along famously. In fact, sometimes they hunted together. The older owl suspected that those two were the biggest nonhuman gossips on the grounds. He just couldn’t prove it.

Gleamtalon sighed and swooped down to the floor. It was a courtesy to the half-Kneazle and a nod to their strong friendship. Crookshanks could climb to the top, of course, but there wasn’t as much room or a comfortable space. As he had grown older he’d gotten bigger of course, since his mistress took very good care of him.

Even Gleamtalon didn’t want to tell Crookshanks he was getting a bit fat. Hedwig might be able to do that without Crookshanks getting upset, but the old owl didn’t get to his age by being stupid. He sent others to do it for him.

There were mice waiting in the stone box as Gleamtalon came in. Crookshanks reached down into the box and hooked a mouse with his claws. This mouse was flipped to the old owl, who snagged it out of the air. He sat back with his mouse and watched the orange half-Kneazle get another.

“Hedwig?”

“She’ll be here in a moment,” Crookshanks purred, looking at the fat mouse. “She was on final approach from across the grounds when I walked in. She was taking her time since there was something that she could see from the air that I couldn’t from the ground.”

Gleamtalon nodded at that.

“We’ll ask her, then.”

“Ask me what?” came a soft voice.

The old owl and the half-Kneazle turned to the doorway to see the Snowy owl step delicately in. Given her breed, she approached as silently as always. Neither had heard her arrival and both rose to their feet. Gleamtalon bowed to her.

“Lady Hedwig. As always, a pleasure.”

“Lord Gleamtalon, the same to you. Crooks, I’m glad to see you. Is there another mouse in that box?”

“Of course! Would I hog your mouse?”

Another mouse came her way and she gripped it out of the air delicately. All three toasted each other and partook of their delicacies, although Crookshanks was a little more messy about it. The owls didn’t comment about their friend’s differences.

After they each enjoyed their mouse, the old owl turned to Hedwig.

“Milady, Crookshanks had mentioned that you observed something while in flight that delayed your usually prompt arrival. Given your discretion and discernment of things, it would suggest that whatever it was should be investigated. May I ask what you found?”

“Of course, milord. I should start by saying it edges into Familiar Magics, not the natural law of the world.”

Gleamtalon raised a shaggy eyebrow. Crookshanks sat up quickly, leaving off cleaning his paws.

“Young Potter is involved?”

“I’m not sure how, but I could feel a tug on the link between he and I. If I felt it, then I’m sure he felt it. Given his proclivities…”

“His luck, you mean,” Crookshanks snickered.

Hedwig rolled her eyes, an impressive feat for an owl.

“His luck, as Crooks so perceptively put it, is not the best. If it wasn’t for the furball’s mistress, it would be much worse.”

Crookshanks nodded. He felt the same way. His mistress was someone to be proud of, especially when she brought out the tuna treats. Gleamtalon snorted.

“At the risk of further inflating _someone’s_ furry head, I would agree, but what does it have to do with the link?” Harry Potter’s luck was one of the topics of conversation in the Owlery. A lot of bets were exchanged between wings.

Hedwig sat up.

“I think that there’s someone in the woods on the other side of the castle some distance from the ward lines. This unknown person is doing something that impinges on the magic of my Harry in some way. How, I don’t know, but I can feel it. It’s like a rock dropped in a busy river.”

“Can you tell where this ‘impingement’ is trying to link to your master?”

Hedwig’s head shook in frustration.

“No, not yet. I’ve been trying to fly around the area to get more information but I’ve had problems.” The irritation was clear.

“Problems, milady? What kind, if I may be so bold?”

Hedwig’s amber eyes darkened.

“There’s another owl who thinks a lot of himself that takes it upon himself to ‘escort’ me, despite my clear expression to not do so. This makes my task a lot harder and any information that I might gather that should be kept in confidence would be open. He acts like a lot of the young owlets my Harry is being educated with. Convinced he knows the Way and everyone else is just wrong.”

Gleamtalon’s head dropped down before he heaved a mighty sigh. He had a good idea who, but Crookshanks didn’t since he didn’t spend a lot of time in the Owlery.

“Hedwig? Who’s bothering you?” The half-Kneazle growled out his question. Hedwig was his friend and no stuck-up, pretentious, overblown ball of feathers was going to bother her. Hedwig put a wing out to calm him down.

“It’s okay, Crooks. I have a plan.”

The old owl sighed again. Crookshanks didn’t look particularly calmed since his tail’s lashing made it a little hard for the owls to keep their feet.

“It’s Jessup, isn’t it? Him again?”

Hedwig’s only reply was a nod.

“What am I going to do with him? This is the third time!”

Crookshanks made a suggestion.

“Invite him to a barbeque on Hogsmeade weekends? I’ll round up the fire.”

Gleamtalon glanced askance at him.

“I wonder about you sometimes. I was going to suggest something else.”

The half-Kneazle grinned at him.

“Look who my mistress is and how much she knows. If she knew Hedwig was being harassed, Harry would not have to worry or even know about it.”

The old owl gaped at him.

“You have a point. A disturbing point, but a point.”

Hedwig cleared her throat.

“If you two _males_ are quite through.” They looked at her. “I have my own plan where Jessup is concerned.”

Gleamtalon looked at Crookshanks, resignation clear in his large eyes. Crookshanks started laughing.

“Ohhhhhh, that poor _bastard_. He’s done for. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Hedwig sniffed disdainfully. She didn’t want to talk about that idiot. The sound of Crookshanks’ snorting laughter through his squashed nose didn’t help her patience.

“Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?”

The half-Kneazle chuckled, his good humor restored.

“Sure, Hed. Where’s this odd area?”

She told him and he sat back, suddenly thoughtful. The tip of his bottlebrush tail twitched a few times.

“I know this place. It makes my whiskers knot up when I go by or at least feels like it. It feels like what my mistress calls Dark magic,” he grimaced.

“Oh? Do you feel a pull on your familiar magic, too?”

“Yes, but not as strongly as you describe. It’s more like a stone instead of a rock.”

Gleamtalon thought about it.

“Both of your familiars are friends, like the two of you are. Am I correct?”

They nodded to him and Hedwig continued.

“My Harry doesn’t have a lot of close friends due to the _treatment of those people_ he has to go back to every summer.”

They heard the rage, but neither commented. Crookshanks’ eyes lit up as his pupils dilated and his tail started thrashing again, and Gleamtalon’s mind started going over a few confidential owl reports labeled ‘Dursley.’ A few notations were added. After a moment, Hedwig got a grip on her emotions and continued but there was still a flicker of flame in her eyes.

“But he does have one person that has stuck with him almost from the moment they’ve met.”

The half-Kneazle’s feline grin would have disquieted the other two if they hadn’t been such good companions with him. As it were, they knew that he was pleased to talk about this subject.

“My mistress loves him and doesn’t know how to admit it to herself. Oh, young love and foolish youths. It doesn’t matter what species.”

Hedwig sighed.

“Believe me, I know. It’s the same with him for her. Her parents know it, if some of the comments her mother makes when I deliver a letter for her. Emma always gives me excellent bacon, too. I think she wants her own owl. Dan seems unsure about this idea. Poor man. He’ll learn what to do if he wants to keep his mate happy.”

This time it was Gleamtalon who rolled his eyes.

“I’m too old and set in my ways to start with bacon but that’s beside the point. I have made an observation that the two of you may have missed.”

The other two looked at him with eyebrows raised, one avian, one feline.

“I’m not too old to notice that both of your familiars are quite… keen, shall we say on each other.”

The other two nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I would be willing to bet that like others in the history, their magics are highly compatible. They simply fit together without effort. I would also be willing to bet that with that in mind, this effect that you, milady, have noticed is resonating with Crookshanks’ mistress.”

The half-Kneazle nodded, his tone thoughtful as he picked up the older owl’s logic.

“And in turn, it’s plucking our familiar bonds like a string.”

“What if they bond? My Harry and your Hermione?”

The thought made Crookshanks purr in happiness.

“I would be pleased, of course and I think you would too. It would be nice to have kittens roll around. Or owlets in your case,” he added to Hedwig’s nod.

Gleamtalon sighed.

“One thing at a time, both of you. I’d think that it would make their magics stronger and in turn the familiar bond. That’s a question for the future, not now. We need to work on this problem and find out what’s happening. If we can, we need to fix it or get help.”

“Agreed. Now what about our master and mistress?”

There was a disturbance outside and as Crookshanks was closer to the opening, he looked out. When he turned back there was a smirk on his face.

“What?” Hedwig demanded.

“That was my mistress, running by like the hounds of hell was after her. I could hear her muttering ‘no harems for Harry, not if I have anything to say about it!’ and her eyes were on fire.”

“What?” This time she seemed confused. Harems?

Gleamtalon shook his head at the other two. Crookshanks looked more insufferable than usual.

“Well, we should probably leave it there until next week. Besides, if we hurry we can get some new bets in before they close today. Milady, Crooks.”

The younger pair nodded in agreement and followed the older owl out.

-=(|-|)=-

Elsewhere, in the area that the three friends had been discussing there was some activity happening. Wards had been erected that were quite stringent and more than deadly. The location was far enough from the castle to keep from interfering with the school’s wards but close enough to see the tallest part of the Great Hall. Within the perimeter of the wards lay a few things, which seemed to indicate a nefarious purpose. There was a storage area for various tools and blades, another for weapons, a medium-sized meat cleaning table, a large stone circle with rough-cut runes, and perhaps most ominously, a large pit dug out with a mound of dirt close by. A small wizard’s tent was hidden away behind a particularly dense copse of trees.

Unlit torches stood sentinel around the circle, a worn footpath leading to it from the pit. The trail was a bit discolored compared to the appearance of the surrounding grounds. As it was afternoon, there was still enough light filtering in from the ancient trees overhead that there was no need of other lighting. The torches around the circle was not to be used until the time for rituals had come.

There was no movement in the area. No animal tracks were anywhere to be seen nor were there any signs that any wizards or witches had been there in the last few months, aside from the tent. No overgrowth or weeds had grown up within the perimeter of the wards, but that was the only sign that there was something unexpected in the otherwise normal appearance of the woods.

The only thing that would have caught the casual glance toward the area was a distinct feeling of foreboding. Something was going to happen there, but no one that penetrated the woods far enough to find this camp would have any idea what it would have been. The only thing that they would have thought about would have been dread.

The circle’s camp remained quiet, waiting for the coming time when its purpose would be fulfilled.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Harry squinted at the monolithic rock and scratched an itch on the side of his nose. Sometimes he wished he was like that rock. The rock stood through everything. Heat, cold, rain, snow, the odd spell thrown at it and had done so for a long, long time. It would be nice to be able to shrug off everything like that rock did.

For now, it was just… okay. There wasn’t any particular way to describe the weather, or so he thought. Somewhere in the distance he could hear somebody shout to somebody else that the sky was blue, the water was warm, it wasn’t raining, and why stay inside with a book when they could be outside in beautiful weather?

He snorted in amusement as some of his brooding mood lifted. Harry could remember saying that very thing to Hermione a time or two. At least twice last week. He looked out over the lake to try to see who had said that piece of wisdom. It seemed that the figure trying to pull what looked like a tall blonde-haired girl out of the castle wore blue-trimmed robes.

“Huh. How about that. A Ravenclaw, of all things, leaving his books alone.”

He snorted again at the image. It looked like whoever it was seemed to be having more luck than either he or Ron ever had doing the same thing to Hermione among her books. Harry looked at the girl and saw that she was wearing green trim. His eyebrow quirked at the sight.

“And a Slytherin is trying to stay with her books. Well, this is strange too.”

Harry chuckled at that for a moment before ignoring it. He wished the Ravenclaw good luck in whatever he was trying to do before turning his attention back to the rock. His thoughts had been diverted enough to the sky. Sure enough, the sky was nice and blue. That Ravenclaw was right.

He looked at the time. Maybe he had enough time before his next class for a quick fly. It surely sounded better than sitting here staring at a rock that was indifferent to whatever was on his mind. It wasn’t really the best conversationalist, anyway.

His mood was lifted as Harry thought about that. Imagine that, a talking rock. He’d seen quite a few odd things since re-entering the world of magic and that would have been one of the oddest. The thought of Ron’s reaction at such a thing nearly had him laughing aloud. Maybe he could enlist the help of a certain pair of red-headed pranksters. Surely there was something in the Triple W.

The book bag was still where he had left it propped up against the small bench he’d been sitting on. It was a serviceable bench, hewed out of stone, but utterly unremarkable. Maybe Hagrid would put a different bench out here that was a little more comfortable if Harry found one. It might make staring at that rock more relaxing.

Bending to grab the book bag was a mistake.

One moment, he was on his feet with one hand on the unassuming bench to reach for the bag with the other. The next he was sprawled on the ground courtesy of the foot of that damn bench tripping him.

Harry had absolutely no clue what had happened. A part of his mind wondered if he’d been lightning-struck. Another part reported that he’d bumped his head. Yet another part reported, more indignantly, that a sensitive part of his anatomy had received a solid blow that was very concerning and as such was assuming a defensive posture just in case.

While his mind was trying to assemble all of this information into a coherent report, there was another input filtering into his ear. This was no less coherent.

“I found you, finally! I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you before _they_ would! I’d never forgive myself and she wouldn’t either!”

Confusion reigned supreme in Harry’s mind.

What?

Who?

Why?

The last question came from the abused parts, but the befuddlement that Harry was feeling overall was helping him shake off some of the pain. Curling his leg around whatever had nailed him in the groin helped, but didn’t stop the ache. As if that wasn’t enough, the squeal in his ear was not helping.

“Oh, Harry! I’m sorry! Let me help you up.”

An instant later, he got a face full of curly hair that had a very familiar scent. This distracted him enough that he couldn’t get the trembling words out in time.

“...Wait!”

He was sure that there was a female someone resting on top of him, which in itself wasn’t bad. Harry liked it, actually, as long as he didn’t think of certain pain filled parts. It was something he wouldn’t mind getting more used to. There wasn’t much time to think about this anymore as the pressure shifted to sit on his stomach for an instant. The hair flew out of his face, to be replaced by something soft for the barest of moments.

Dazed, Harry didn’t realize much more until he found himself hauled upward. His warning failed to make whoever his assailant stop, and things didn’t improve.

His knee rammed the corner of that stone bench and he stiffened. Harry yelped in pain again and his hands flailed out to find purchase somewhere – anywhere – to keep from falling again. He could dimly tell that there was a face in the path of his hands and he jerked his hands down. At least he wouldn’t hit whoever it was. By that time, he was falling again and grabbed whatever he could to keep from hitting his head on that bench.

He was going to destroy that bench if he survived this.

“HaaaaRRRREEEEEEEEE!”

His name being screamed out was cut off by a yelp. Whatever he’d found to try to break his fall was soft and warm, but it didn’t help. It seemed that time slowed down and he saw the other person turn away just before they landed on the ground again.

“UUUUHHhhhgggggg!”

Now his stomach was feeling the effects of being introduced what felt like a huge punch. Harry’s eyes crossed and it took all he had to try not to retch. His moan of pain was matched by the other person, who twisted under him and held him close.

“Oh. Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

He moaned more, wishing he was in bed now. It would be so nice to roll into a ball and stay there until breakfast tomorrow. A soft voice whispered comforts in his ear. He couldn’t tell what those were but as far as he was concerned he was staying still. Right here. Maybe he could get one of the Castle’s elves to bring him food later. His class notes, too. Maybe even his bed and if it rained, hold an umbrella over it.

As some of the newer pain receded, he could hear the soft voice murmur in his ear. It took a moment but he could see that his head was cradled on someone’s very soft chest. He decided he could handle staying here for a while considering how very comfortable it was. It was unquestionably female. If it wasn’t for the affronted parts of his body, he’d be giving thanks to whatever luck had turned from whatever bad run he usually suffered.

It was so comfortable that he almost fell asleep. The little kisses he could feel on the top of his head didn’t help matters and relaxed him further.

“No, Harry, don’t go to sleep. You didn’t hit your head, but I can’t get you off me if you do and if Malfoy finds us we’ll never hear the end of it.”

The green eyes widened, and he finally looked up.

At Hermione’s face.

She grinned when he realized his face was buried deep in her chest. Her robes had come loose sometime in the scuffle and second fall and his nose was stuck in her cleavage. A distant part of his mind was dancing in delight, but the blush on his face was anything but pleasure.

“Oh, Harry.”

She pulled his head back down. Shocked, he let her.

“Honestly? I don’t really care if he finds us or not.”

_What?_

“I came here to find you. No, stay still. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I know I got at least two good shots on you by mistake.” She sounded pretty embarrassed and he couldn’t help but forgive her.

He’d started to get up to ask what was going on, but her gentle restraint and words kept him still. It wasn’t like Harry wanted to get up, really. He felt perfectly happy right here.

“No, Harry. I came to find you. I’ve come to a realization and I need to tell you what I’ve realized. Stay right there for now. Please? Please don’t go anywhere?”

Her gentle fingers ran through his hair and the slow rise and fall of her breathing combined with that to soothe him. He didn’t really want to get up since she was so warm. This was nice. Very nice, but what was Hermione doing out here, snuggling him to her? Not that he was complaining but he was very, very confused.

“Hermione?”

He felt another kiss land on his forehand, just over his scar. Harry settled and waited for her to say whatever she had to say.

“I think Luna is tired of waiting.”

“Er… what?”

_Of all the things to say, that didn’t make much sense and it was really unexpected, too._

“Always so voluble,” she grinned from the amusement at his reaction. He wasn’t sure if she was insulting him or not, so he flicked a glance up and stayed still where he was.

_So warm._

“And no that wasn’t an insult, just a comment.”

He still wasn’t sure but he did raise a questioning eyebrow.

“What’s that about Luna?”

Her fingers had never stopped running through his hair. She was quiet for a moment.

“Luna has been doing what she’s good at and seeing things that others haven’t or can’t. She’s been trying to get me to accept what I’ve been trying to put off and I can’t deny it any more. Katie has told me a few things going on in the castle that I don’t like and I’m going to do something about it.”

Harry was still confused, but Hermione barreled on.

“And I don’t know what you think about this because you haven’t said anything, and then I heard about the harem waiting for you. I don’t care for that…”

Harry stiffened on his comfortable spot on her chest.

“ _Harem?”_

Hermione looked down and the poleaxed expression on his face. Unbidden, a small smile formed on her face.

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

“Harem? _What_ harem?”

“Why, the harem that’s ready for their master – that’s you – to claim them.”

Whatever he said then was lost in the gurgle as he buried his reddened face in the closest thing he could find. She sighed happily as he inadvertently nuzzled her cleavage and stroked his head. Hermione figured that she would give him a few minutes to see if he realized where his face was.

He could do that as long as he wanted, as far as she was concerned.

They laid there without a word exchanged for several minutes until Harry realized where he was. His head shot up.

“Shhhhhhh, Harry. Lay back down. I was enjoying that.”

He gaped at her.

_Surely…_

Apparently she did because she pulled his head back down. A corner of his mind immediately started listening for the comforting sound of her heartbeat and he wondered when that became reassuring to him.

“Lay back down, Harry. I want you to listen to me.” She waited a moment until he relaxed. “I’ve spent too much time at your side to lose you to anyone, much less a harem.”

He stiffened. Harry was mortified to discover that this applied in more than one sense. Thankfully, she couldn’t tell – could she?

“I don’t know how to lead up to it, so I’ll just say it.”

“Say what?” It was muffled, considering where his head was but frankly he was still too comfortable to move.

“I want you in my life as more than a friend. I’ve loved you for a long time and the thought of you not being there with me hurts. Harry, I need you and I don’t want to let you go!”

The short declaration came out almost defiantly and with a few tears. Hermione didn’t know if she was saying that to Harry because of the harem or to the harem to keep Harry. Either way, it was out there and she waited for Harry to pick up what she put down.

There wasn’t any answer for a moment and she looked down, a bit afraid. The green eyes was staring at her, as wide as any time she’d ever seen them. With the rest of the expression on his face, it was a bit funny but she was too focused on him. This was something she’d thought about for a long time now.

“Hermione, I…” He looked unsure of himself and her heart plummeted. She started babbling.

“I don’t know if you feel the same way, Katie was sure you did, and Luna was saying that if I didn’t she was going to, and then there’s the harem and I don’t want to share and…”

She didn’t think it was possible for his eyes to get wider but they did. There was a gentle smile blossoming on his face and she felt his fingertip silence the torrent of words.

“Harry?”

She murmured his name past the pad of his finger, questioning him. Harry eased his way up to look at her. The blush on his face had settled down, it seemed. Instead, it must have found a new home on her face.

Harry didn’t know how much to move, but he decided that it was enough when he noticed that she was looking up at him with some space between their bodies. Her arms had opened to let him up. Hermione found one of his hands had cupped her cheek and she responded by kissing his palm.

“Are you sure, Hermione?”

She nodded emphatically and tugged him down to her. Harry’s green eyes met her brown eyes as she wrapped a leg around his.

“I’m sure, Harry. I don’t want to let you go. Ever.”

The look in her eyes pleaded with him and he came to a decision. Harry dropped his lips to hers.

The kiss was slow and careful to begin with, but as her body opened up to welcome his weight it became more needy. Her hands roamed up and down his back, frustrated in the quest to get to his bared back by the cloak and robes he wore. She moaned and gripped handfuls of fabric instead.

Harry heard this and didn’t know what it meant since he was busy with this… this totally unexpected situation. He trailed kisses to her neck and Hermione moaned.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Harry…” she breathed, and he responded with a tighter hold and more kisses. She bent her legs around his torso and crossed her ankles behind his back to pull him as close to her as she could.

The pressure she felt from him on top of her combined with the kisses started to drive her wild. She could feel the stiffness he’d hoped she didn’t. With the way he was kissing her, he’d probably forgotten but she surely couldn’t. It felt… wonderful. She filed that feeling away to think about later while alone in the dark of night.

The hand on her cheek was trembling and this brought her down a bit.

“Harry? This feels wonderful but we need to sit up.”

She didn’t truly want to. She wouldn’t admit it to him right now if he asked her. But they needed to talk more. When they were sitting up with flushed faces on each of them, she asked him a question she wanted to know the answer to.

“Harry? Do you truly have feelings for me, too? Be honest.”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly that it surprised both of them.

“When did you realize that?”

“Sometime after saving Sirius and Buckbeak. I don’t know how it occurred to me, but it felt like it came to me in between one moment and the next.”

Hermione thought about that.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Harry was silent for a moment and she didn’t push him.

“I was afraid, Hermione. I didn’t have the best time growing up, you know. I didn’t know how to handle this thought or these feelings or what to do.”

She burrowed into his side.

“It’s okay, Harry. We know now.”

“What happens now? I’m not ashamed to say I’m lost.”

She smiled at him.

“Well, first of all, you kiss your girlfriend again.”

Harry Potter had no problem with that step. In fact, he decided to repeat it, just to be safe.

-=(|-|)=-

The sun had dipped down as they walked back to the castle hand-in-hand. It was almost time for the evening meal, and both were starting to feel hungry.

“So you’re telling me that Luna has been drawing you and me…”

“Naked, right. Together.”

“Uh-huh. And Katie says the proportions are all correct…”

“Right.”

“And you don’t know how Luna knows that vital information, but Katie thinks she knows…”

“...yes…”

“And isn’t saying what she thinks?”

“Well, she is saying what she thinks about the harem, but as for Luna, no.”

_Harry didn’t need to know all the details,_ Hermione thought to herself. Girls needed to keep some secrets to themselves.

“And that’s another thing. _A harem?_ Whose idea was that?”

“I don’t know. I could guess and probably be right, but I really don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if Katie knew. She outright said she’d volunteer.”

Harry stumbled at her words. She grinned and pulled him along.

“From what she says, it’s a toss-up between being called ‘Harry’s Harem’ and ‘Lord Potter’s Council of Love Slaves,’ which at least is more catchy and sounds like rock band groupies. You don’t know how to play an electric guitar, do you?”

She didn’t look at him this time, knowing that the astounded look on his face would send her into gales of laughter.

“Uhhh…”

“Honestly, Harry. It’s a tribute.”

Judging from the color of his face she’d seen when she peeked at him, he wasn’t too sure that it was a tribute or not.

“Um… how many am I going to have to hide from?”

“Six or seven, maybe more.”

He groaned.

“No ‘maybe’ about it. I’m pretty sure of that. And Luna! What role does she play in this!?”

Hermione stopped and tugged him to her for another kiss.

“I don’t know yet, other than she’s matchmaking.”

He started to speak when a dreamy voice interrupted.

“I’m looking out for Harry Potter’s best interest, of course.”

They looked to the side to see Luna Lovegood perched in an alcove with a small ball. She was absently bouncing it on the grip end of her wand. It looked hard and neither Harry or Hermione thought they could do it themselves.

“What is his best interest, Luna?”

She grabbed the ball in midair and smiled at them.

“Keeping him safe from the Withering Cumquaints, of course. They travel in groups and prey on unsuspecting males. They drain them of vital fluids and mental energy. There’s a large group in the castle focused on you and some others right now. Harry Potter is my friend. I would be a terrible friend if I didn’t shield him from these terrible mutants.”

“And what’s the best way to shield him?” Hermione was almost afraid to ask.

“Lots of kisses, hugs, licking, sucking, casual nudity, and sex. Multiple times a day. The more the better. It drives them away, all but the most hardy.”

Silence.

Carefully, since this _was_ Luna Lovegood they were talking to, Harry spoke up.

“And Luna… what does Hermione have to do with this? And who are ‘the others’ you mentioned? Should they be warned?”

“The others are Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley.”

“Neville?”

“Ron?”

The two names came out simultaneously.

“Of course, Harry and Hermione. Neville can take care of himself. He may appear shy and bumbling, which he is. However, underneath that exterior is a strong bear of a man waiting to be released. Withering Cumquaints would be no problem for him. The group tagged to him is not as large and apparent as yours, but still something to keep an eye on.”

The other two shot glances at each other while the little blonde spoke blithely.

“… and Ron?” Harry’s voice was hesitant. This was Luna after all.

“No hope.”

They waited for her to expand on that but she was silent. After a minute or so, they looked at each other.

“And Luna, what about keeping him safe?”

“Oh, it would be the Withering Cumquaints I’d be more worried about.”

Again, she didn’t offer any details. Neither Harry or Hermione wanted to get any more.

“And what exactly does Hermione do against…”

“She drains you of the energies that attract them before the Withering Cumquaints do, and marks her territory. It’s quite exhilarating, really. Besides, when you become Lord Potter, there’s going to be a lot of draining needed. As magically powerful as you are, she most likely will need help! Isn’t that wonderful?” Her voice was gleeful.

“Drains? Marks?” He decided not to ask about the ‘Lord Potter and help’ stuff and avoid more headache. Beside him, Hermione was a bit squinty.

“Of course! She was doing some of that already. I’m surprised you can still walk straight.”

“Me, too,” he muttered under his breath. Thankfully Hermione didn’t hear him since she was still focused on Luna.

“But this shielding… I don’t understand Luna. It sounds like snogging and sex.”

“Some call it that. Are you complaining about doing it?”

Harry made sure to keep his mouth firmly shut.

“See, Harry’s not complaining.”

_No… no, I’m not. Even I know better._

Hermione blushed.

“Well, we hadn’t quite gotten to discussing sex, Luna.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I can help you! Besides, there’s a lot of discussion in the castle about Harry and sex everyday. Location, positions, time, length, rounds, jellies...”

“Really,” he groaned. _Jellies? I don’t think I want to know._

“How do you think I know about the Withering Cumquaints and their gossiping?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed more.

“Luna, are these Cumquaints also known as harems?”

“Some would say that, but they give true harems a bad name.”

Harry looked at Hermione and shrugged. If he was going to be lost in this conversation he might as well accept it.

“As epithets go, it’s good enough for me.”

Luna’s eyes danced with amusement.

“And they’re getting larger every week. Maybe every day, even.”

Harry groaned. Hermione spoke carefully.

“And snogging Harry a lot will help head this off?”

“Until you need help!” Her tone was bright and cheerful. “Although only one assistant, however. More creates other problems. Keep it in mind – Katie knows about this and can help you.”

Harry choked. Luna whacked him on the back helpfully.

“Katie?”

“Yes! She was the one to initially warn me.”

“Is that so,” Harry drawled.

“Well, she admitted that she would be a Cumquaint herself in other circumstances but there was other considerations. She truly doesn’t want you to be hurt. So, she is helping me fight them off you, Harry!”

Looks were traded between the other two.

“And who would be this ‘assistant,’ if I really needed one?” Hermione inquired.

Luna smiled.

“That’s up to you. Well, both of you, since the assistant would have to be implicitly trusted by both of you. Only one, remember!”

“I can see that,” Harry mumbled. His head was spinning. He reflected that it usually did after a trip down the rabbit hole with Luna.

Hermione took Harry’s hand again and didn’t let go. Luna grinned even wider when she saw it and clapped her hands happily.

“Are you claiming him?”

Both Harry and Luna looked at Hermione. The question hung in the air. Hermione drew herself up and spoke firmly.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

The little blonde squealed happily and applauded.

“The wrackspurts have finally left! I’m very pleased to see this. My work is done – for now.”

Luna skipped off, humming a jaunty tune that neither knew the origin of. They turned to look at each other.

“Do we tell Neville and Ron about this or ruin the surprise?”

“I don’t have a clue. It’s that ‘for now’ she said that worries me. I don’t know what to think about that.”

“Me, either. For both. Come along, Lord Potter. We need to figure out what exactly this ‘draining’ is.”

“I have some thoughts…”

Their voices trailed off and somewhere a little blonde Ravenclaw grinned to herself as she set the next part of her plan in motion with a cold goblet of pumpkin juice.

-=(|-|)=-

The Great Hall was busy with the sound of the evening meal commencing. The large doors were open as was usual, and as the day had been fairly busy for most of the castle’s inhabitants everyone was rather hungry. At the Head Table several of the professors had their plates full with their chosen foods. Professor Flitwick, for instance, had a nice steak while Professor McGonagall preferred a simple onion soup and a farmhouse soda bread.

The younger ones at the House tables had a much greater variety. Being younger and with usually faster metabolisms than the adults, they tended to be quite hungrier. Some had more refined table manners than others for whatever reason, but there simply could be no denial of the fact that the children and teenagers appreciated the evening meal greatly.

The conversations that flowed between the diners at each table contributed to the noise in the Great Hall. At times, the talk would jump from table to table, despite Professor McGonagall’s disapproving stares. Professor Flitwick was quite amused at her criticizing sniffs, especially when the number of shouts between tables got too close to the day’s number they agreed upon each morning in their running bet. So far today, there was a good chance he was going to win this time.

“Still think you’re going to get those five Galleons for today, Minerva?” he grinned at her.

“There’s still time, Filius. There’s still the weekly bet, too.”

“Oh, of course. That’s the harder one, what with something happening to make everyone go quiet.”

“It’s easier to bet that nice bottle of single malt now that the Weasley Twins are out of the castle.”

“Oh, indeed!” He chuckled. “They would have lost you that bottle at least three times a week.”

“Don’t remind me. Have you been to their shop?”

“I have! I’m simply pleased to see what they’ve been able to accomplish. Somehow, I knew they had smarts they were hiding. Have you been?”

“Oh, a few times. I _had a quiet word_ with them the other day.”

“Is that so?”

Flitwick smirked. This was going to be good. He could imagine what words she would have had with the irrepressible Twins.

“I merely said that if any of their products caused me personal problems in my duties, then there would be problems for them. Then as I left, I Transfigured the left heel of Fred’s shoe into a duck call and the right heel of George’s shoe into a whoopie cushion. The transfiguration was permanent and they couldn’t remove their shoes until bedtime. I stopped by for that _quiet word_ first thing in the morning, too.”

The diminutive professor burst into laughter.

“Be careful. You might give them ideas.”

“I’ll demand a royalty payment if they do.”

“Good idea.”

They went back to their meals. The occasional amused snort came from Flitwick as he thought about the Twins being pranked. He carved up his thick steak with a wicked looking Goblin-made knife as he ate. There were a couple of empty seats at the table tonight, with the Potions Master working on replenishing potions and other necessities for the Hospital Wing and the Headmaster out of the castle on ICW business.

For some reason both McGonagall and Flitwick was looking at the doors to the Great Hall when Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walked in grinning like loons, still hand in hand.

“Oh, my!”

The sheer oddness of the normally stern-sounding Professor McGonagall’s pleased exclamation got everyone’s attention, even if it was subliminally. The various conversations dipped and the students looked up at her and then at whatever she was staring at, wondering what had affected her so.

It stopped completely when all eyes fell on the pair at the doorway. Harry blushed, but led Hermione to her seat and helped her in. The benches made it harder to seat her, as he would have done with a chair but he made do. He looked around at the expressions and sighed.

_Oh, what the hell. They’re all looking anyway,_ he thought.

On the heels of that thought he turned to Hermione. She apparently had the same thought and was already looking at him, waiting. So he did what seemed like the best idea at the time and charged forth like all good Gryffindors do.

The kiss was long and slow, and Hermione melted against him. He broke the kiss with Hermione on his shoulder and raised his eyebrow at all the faces agape at him. Professor Flitwick was bouncing on his seat with excitement and with one of the largest smiles Harry had ever seen.

The Great Hall was as silent as a mausoleum until a resigned Scottish voice spoke up.

“I suppose you want that single malt tonight, Filius?”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“Too bad Black’s dead already, or I’d kill him myself.”

“You and me both. He did in too many of us before he wound up in Azkaban somehow.”

“Yeah… Funny thing, that, but I didn’t complain about it at the time.”

A solid _thunk_ signaled the landing of a mug on the tough wooden table in the tavern. It wasn’t the Leaky Cauldron, although the two men quietly conversing would have preferred that location. This was a strange place to both of them and if they had their druthers they’d never come back. Some place called ‘The Hung Troll’ didn’t inspire a lot of comfort in them, but at least the ale was good and cheap.

The bartender was the ugliest man either had seen. His nose was nowhere near straight, with lips that looked like pounded meat and bags the size of a skinny mouse under his eyes. One was permanently bloodshot. The roughly trimmed beard didn’t hide the scars meandering around on his face.

Neither man wanted to find out if the tavern was named after him or not. He had a temper and a lascivious nature toward others. After the third loaded question and the way he drew the ale while winking at them, they gave him wide berths when they came in. It wasn’t easy giving that his tavern was a bit small.

“What do you think about that Potter lad?”

A snort.

“Between you and me, the boy’s got some stones. If half the stories since he showed up at Hogwarts are true, then there’s more to him than what he looks like. Ever seen him?”

“Yeah, skinny little runt. He’d be invisible if he turned sideways.”

“Looks like he could’ve done with more feeding up, true. Can’t deny that one. He’d blow away in a gentle breeze, looks like. Remember James Potter?”

“Yeah, kid looks just like him except James was a lot bigger at the same age.”

“Makes you wonder, huh?”

Both men took draws at their ale. Neither was going to toast the elder Potter, but settled for downing a swallow of the pretty good ale in grudging respect.

“More to him than what you see, the boy.”

A quiet moment passed while the other man considered it.

“I’d have to agree. I think that boy’s got his mother’s temper.”

The first man grimaced while the other man laughed at him.

“What a thing of beauty, so long as it wasn’t directed at you. You’d know, right?”

“Don’t remind me. My ass hasn’t ever been the same. Every time it rains…”

“Yeah, yeah. You tell me all the time. You shouldn’t have tried to grab her ass. Not that I could blame you. Damn, what a temper. Get her riled up and it was either a stupid man or one that was completely sure of himself that could handle her.”

They drank solemnly to Lily Evans Potter.

“Damn, what a fine ass that was. It took you what, a week and a half to be able to get out of bed?”

The answer was given slowly with a grimace.

“About that. It was a good thing I didn’t turn around first when she got me, I’ll tell you that. As it was, my missus is frustrated every so often.”

Roaring laughter met this pronouncement.

“Oh, don’t blame being unable to get it up on Lily Evans and her temper! You’re just getting older than you want to admit, Jake!”

“Well…”

There was a blush on Jake’s cheeks. His companion noticed, and laughed harder. Tears came out of his eyes and he pounded the table.

“Oh! Don’t tell me! You have to think about that ‘fine ass’ to get it up even now, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” the first man muttered. Wiping his eyes again, his drinking partner calmed down a bit.

“No, I really can’t. Something tells me that if she’d lived she would have had men eating out of her hand anywhere she went. A fully bloomed Lily, so to speak, would have been a sight to see.”

“Wouldn’t matter that she was a mudblood or not.”

“Ever seen this thing called a ‘bikini?’ That would have really put the kneazle around the snitches.”

“You ain’t joking. No lie, I found her and those two girls she ran with skinny-dipping in the Black Lake one night. Alice and Marlene. That’s a Patronus memory if ever there was one.”

Jake’s drinking companion sat up. This was something interesting he’d never heard from his old friend before.

“No! Really?”

“Really. It was a glorious sight, let me tell you. Wish I had a pensieve, except the missus would find it.” The memory prompted an appreciative smile from Jake.

“Did they catch you?”

“No! Are you stupid? I’d just got out of the hospital wing, but as much as I was enjoying the sights I couldn’t stay.”

There was a disbelieving look on the other man’s face.

“Seriously? What would pull you away from something like that? McGonagall catching you?”

“Well, yes, that would have worked too, but that wasn’t it.”

“What was it?”

“I had a comfortable spot with a great view, doing a bit of rubbing – shut up, Tim – and I felt a hot breath of something _big_ behind me, right on my neck. I was crouched down in the bushes, looking out at those naked girls – glorious I tell you, carpets matched the drapes and everything – and there’s this snort or whatever. Right there at my left ear and I’d never heard it approach. I felt this hot breath on the back of my neck, too. I’m thinking _oh crap,_ _old_ _Dumbledore was right about the Forbidden Forest and there’s something_ _here_ _about to eat me_ and I hear about the deepest growl at my right ear. I turn around _reeeeeaaaalllll slow_ and guess what I see?”

“No clue, mate, but whatever it was had to be mean enough to chase you away from this ‘glorious’ sight of yours.”

“And damn it if wasn’t glorious, too. You should’ve been there. The moon was just right, not quite a full moon yet that night, but just...”

“Oh, quit bragging. Get on with it,” Tim interrupted, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“So I turn around, slow as you please, and looking me right in the eye is about the biggest stag I’ve ever seen. Ten or twelve points on those antlers. Head wider than my chest. This thing had the most angry look in his eye and I just knew I was a goner. I had plenty of thoughts running around my mind of those antlers spearing me right through. Those hooves were pawing the ground, too, right ready to knock me a good one or three. The way that thing was shaking his head, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere but somewhere in a box.”

“You’re shittin’ me?”

“No! That wasn’t the worse part.” Jake took a sip here, drawing the story out.

“Face to face with a big angry stag? What would top that?”

“Only about the biggest Grim I’ve ever thought to meet.”

“WHAT?”

The noise in the tavern dimmed a bit, and the few heads around turned to look at them. The storyteller motioned for the other man to calm down and soon they were ignored again. They motioned for another round of ales and waited for them to be delivered to their table. After a few sips, Jake went back to his story.

“This huge black dog looked like he could easily have put his paws on the top of my head if I’d been standing, but with that stag there, I didn’t want to do that. I was in a sticky wicket there with a furious Grim and an angry stag on either side, and I didn’t know what in the world I’d done to make them mad much less where they came from. Plus, if I had moved forward much more I would have fallen in the lake and gotten the attention of those girls.”

“Hunh… who would have definitely killed you. All three together? You’d have been done for. Especially when James found out.”

“Yeah, or Black. So I didn’t go anywhere. It was strange, though.”

“Strange?! Strange, you say?”

“Well, neither the stag or the Grim seemed to be bothered by the presence of each other. It was like this was normal for them and they were guarding the girls. That and they were right ticked off that I was there.”

“Sounds like it. So what did you do?”

“Well to start with, the stag stepped on my left foot. Deliberately, I might add, and broke a couple of my toes. The other front foot came up and kicked me right below the knee. That was bad enough and I started to yell at the pain. That _hurt._ I don’t recommend it. I opened my mouth and that Grim got up in my face, showing his teeth and growling more. The eyes on that thing was telling me to keep my mouth shut.”

“I’m guessing you did.”

“You would too, if you’d been there. Don’t judge me. From what the stag was doing – looking at me, looking at the girls, then looking right back at me – it didn’t want me to disturb them. That thing was getting madder and madder, too. It hooked me under the arms with those antlers and picked me up like I was nothing. It _threw_ me like I was so much crumpled parchment, and it hurt when I landed right on my right elbow. Broke that, too.”

“Ouch.”

Jake took another sip. He noted absently that his mug was already started to get drained down. He looked around the tavern, seeing that more regulars had come in and was making enough noise to block anything they were saying.

“That’s another thing that aches every time it rains too. I don’t recommend getting thrown by a stag either. So there I am, flat on my back, broken elbow, broken toes, damaged knee, thinking I got off light. I should have known better, when that Grim jumps from maybe ten, twelve feet away and lands right on me.”

“Let me guess, broke something else?”

“A couple of ribs and a claw on one of the back feet got me in the nuggets after landing on them. It felt like they popped like squished grapes.”

A subdued groan came from the other man and they drained their mugs again, one in commiseration with the other’s remembered pain. It only seemed right to motion for more ale at that point. Both could easily hold their liquor, so it wasn’t a big deal for either of them.

“Oh, that sounds awful.”

“Tell me about it. That’s one reason I sit the way I do. The Grim and the stag looked for all the world like they were coming to some kind of conclusion. I’m not kidding. There was a right strong discussion going on there and I wasn’t too sure I was going to like the decision. I could see the teeth on that Grim all too well, being that they were right there above my face. The stag had a look in his eye like whatever the Grim wanted to do, he was fine with.”

“Well, you’re obviously here now so what happened?”

“The stag apparently decided to go back to where the girls were after giving me a goodbye kick in the other knee, leaving the Grim to deal with me. I’m not going to lie. I’d already wet myself when the stag lifted me like a basket of eggs, but when that Grim growled and snapped at my face a few times I shit myself.”

“Yeah, I would too.”

“So, it jumped off me. Those claws hurt, too, let me assure you. It grabbed a big bunch of my robes and took off dragging me toward the castle. I swear it rammed my head against every rock and tree stump it could find along the way until it stopped.”

Jake took a sip from the new ales. The table was starting to get littered with empties.

“Okay, then what?”

“It put me down, sat down and gave me the meanest look I’ve ever seen any dog give me, and growled at me until I got to my feet. Then it snapped at my heels until I somehow got myself into the castle where Filch caught me.”

“Oh, I remember that. You were scrubbing everywhere once you got out of the hospital wing again. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t too happy with you either.”

“And the thing is, I never saw that Grim leave either. Scary. You know what the worse part of all this was?”

“There’s worse? How could it be worse?”

Jake grimaced.

“The day after I got out of Madam Pomfrey’s clutches that time and before Filch got me, I get myself pulled into a broom closet.”

“That’s bad?”

“It is when it’s Lily Evans pulling you in and she’s pissed off.”

“Oh, shit,” Tim interjected.

“Yes. Oh, shit indeed. Somehow she found out what I’d seen. Brother, you don’t know _fear_ until you have eyes like hers inches from your face _glowing_ in the dark. Green, even. That, and everything in the broom closet was rattling like castanets, there was wind coming from somewhere and the door was sealed and silenced with one of her spells. I spent a good twenty minutes in there with her, but it felt like two hours. She was _brutal._ ”

“What did she do?”

“She screamed at me first which was bad enough. The next part was something I could have well done without the thought of. You know what a circumcision is?”

The look on his companion’s face said that yes indeed he knew.

“She did something similar after kneeing me in the balls, but put a magical salt cap on the tip. Every time I pissed the next week, it wet the salt. If I tried to hold it, then an itching spell started. To top that off, I couldn’t get enough to drink the whole week. The embarrassment kept me from going to Madam Pomfrey again.”

“Damn. She meant business.”

“That’s not all she did.”

“What the hell else?”

“It took another week before I found out that the itching spell triggered the creation of a magical tattoo showing a lily holding a huge bloody knife cutting into a sausage. Every time I piss, there’s blood dripping off that damn knife and it flows, too. You’d think it would have disappeared after she died all those years ago, but it’s still there.”

“Damn. That’s scary.”

“Yeah, I got the message when I first saw it and left her alone after that. There’s no way to get it removed, too.”

“Really?”

“Really. Unless I had the whole thing lopped off like a dead tree limb and regrown,” they both grimaced at the thought, “and then there’s no assurance that it wouldn’t reappear. Apparently, this particular tattoo is known.”

“What?”

“Yeah… the healers at St. Mungo’s had a hard time not laughing when they saw it.”

“So you’re stuck with it?”

“I’m stuck with it.”

“Sucks to be you,” Tim chortled. His drinking partner frowned at him.

“Gee, thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome. Better you than me. Somehow I’d think it would have been better for ol’ James to have caught you then. He did it enough times after we all left Hogwarts.”

Jake grimaced.

“It’s a good thing Lily was never an Auror.”

The other man laughed.

“Yeah, too many men would have been doing things to try to get her to arrest them. That was a right damn good looking woman.”

“Brilliant, too.”

“That, and scary.”

Jake looked at Tim with narrowed eyes. The other man was chuckling now and not making a secret of it.

“What’s so funny?”

Tim snorted and took another gulp of ale before saying anything.

“Oh, nothing much. Just wondering what the missus had to say when she first found that lily tattoo.”

Jake rolled his eyes.

“Don’t remind me. All I’m going to say is that I’m glad I have a very comfortable couch.”

“Heh. All right, enough of your missteps with Lily. Let’s get to business so we can leave.”

They looked around, seeing that there were even more people around creating more noise in the tavern. They’d been waiting for this, having met here for the last week. They were creating a routine and becoming regulars, which helped with clandestine meetings like this.

“Yeah. What does the Dark Lord want?”

“He wants to get things arranged for some kind of ritual. He needs these items,” Jake was passed a list, “and they need to be ready in two month’s times. He understands that some of these items are hard to get, therefore the allowance of time. However, do not go over the two months. If you do, it’s your life.”

Jake nodded.

“I’m not kidding in the least. My life, too.”

“I know, I know.”

They paused for a moment for another sip.

“Hell of a way to get rid of that tattoo, you know.”

The mug thumped back down, some of the ale sloshing out. Jake frowned mightily at Tim who was snorting into his mug.

“Are you going to let me live that down now that I’ve told you?”

“Probably not. Anyway, when you get those items you’re to take them to a wizarding campsite. Take this.”

Tim passed over a book. It was a copy of _Tales of Beedle the Bard._ Jake raised an eyebrow as he heard his companion lower his voice.

“When you get everything together, shrink them into a trunk, open the book and put your wand on the title of ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune.’ The activation word is ‘fantail.’ It’ll get you there to the campsite’s location. When you get there, put the book on the shelf in the tent. There’s a large storage room ready for what you bring. The book being there on the shelf will be the message that the things you’re gathering is there and ready to be used. Got that?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, taking the book and tucking the list in it. The book went into an inside pocket of his cloak and he stood up.

“Good to see you again, but I’ve got things to do.”

The two stood up to leave. Jake heard the man laugh and toss a parting shot over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

“Yeah, go tend to your shriveled lily. I bet it hasn’t been watered in months.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

There was a corner of the Gryffindor Tower’s Common Room called ‘The Discussion Corner.’ It was actually a little area against the back wall with a little freestanding sign propped up against the wall and a couple of relatively nondescript scarlet chairs. There wasn’t anything around to show that this small area had a purpose, except for that sign. Anyone that had something to discuss with his or her housemates and were willing to talk it out in public (and wasn’t a large House-related issue) could go here and relax to talk. All that was needed was to put the little sign up to notify the rest of the House to leave the parties to whatever discussion alone. A seventh year considered to be neutral in whatever issue raised there heard both sides and moderated the debate.

It had been used several times to varying degrees of success. There had never been any failures to come out of that corner, although there was a few questions about that claim. The Great Potato Debate of 1852, over whether red potatoes or yellow potatoes were better in haggis potato cakes was a common point of contention with no real resolution. The agreement was that red potatoes was better, but there were still plenty of people willing to stand up for yellow potatoes even now. Sir Nick always shook his head when it was brought up, carefully of course. He kept his opinion to himself.

The last ‘discussion’ to have been heard in the Discussion Corner involved the use of Muggle calculators in Arithmancy problems. As most if not all of the purebloods had no idea what a calculator was to begin with, it was something that had a hard time getting started. None of the Muggleborn students had even a basic one to display, given that no one was sure that the high concentration of magical energy would destroy even the simple electronics in one. It was tabled until someone could ask a parent to have one sent to them to try.

There was speculation going on between just about everyone in Gryffindor House about where a certain bushy-haired girl and a certain Seeker was going to be seated there soon. Considering recent events, everyone hoped so. It would fuel plenty of other ‘discussions’ within Gryffindor and later within the castle itself. Somebody mentioned talking to Hagrid about whatever they overheard, just so that the news could get out the castle – aside from owl post. It was common knowledge that Hagrid simply couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.

Unfortunately for those inclined to gossip, meaning most of the House, neither Harry or Hermione had yet to be sitting there to unburden their selves of any pressing business. In fact, no one knew quite where they had gotten off too. This created yet more speculation and fueled bets involving the Astronomy Tower or certain broom closets.

Neville Longbottom knew where they were, of course. Harry had called him over to let him know what was going to happen and ask him to keep it quiet. Plus he wanted Neville to keep a running tally on what was said, just to have something to laugh about.

Being the friend that he was, Neville didn’t say a word to anyone and perfected a confused look for use if anyone did ask him if he knew anything. It seemed it was about to be used now, he was sure.

“Oi, Longbottom! Have you seen Harry? I want to use his Cloak and I can’t get into his trunk.”

Neville raised an eyebrow. It marred the confused look a little, but Ron Weasley apparently didn’t notice.

“No idea, Ron.” _Trunk?_

“Rats. Nobody knows. He didn’t even say anything to me.”

“After the way people treated him over the years, I can’t really blame him.”

“What are you on about? We treat him like family! Better than those people he has to live with.”

The look on Neville’s face went unnoticed as the redhead went off to ask someone else. He decided that if Ron was asking, then others was going to be asking and he didn’t want to stay in the Tower. It seemed to him that maybe the library was a better place to be.

At least it would be quiet.

He gathered his books and some supplies, then stepped through the portrait hole. Neville grinned when he made it through without tripping. Getting through it as a firstie hadn’t been the easiest but with time and some longer legs, it was doable.

The noise faded as he set course for the library and headed out. Something Ron had said bothered him, even in that short conversation. Neville didn’t notice that the general crowd of students parted before him and stared at him in his wake as he thought.

It didn’t make sense that anyone but Harry should have access to that invisibility cloak he owned. From what the stalwart boy knew from some things Harry had said over the years, that Cloak was owned by his father and possibly his grandfather. That would make it a family heirloom. With that in mind and the fact that it was one of the few things Neville knew Harry had from his parents, why would Ron be crass enough to think he could use it whenever he wanted to without asking?

That had to be the reason he was trying to get into Harry’s trunk but couldn’t. If Harry was there, he could have asked. Why ‘get into’ another student’s private space? And that comment about how ‘we’ treated him. What was that?

Neville was ashamed of the way some – well, most – of the others had treated Harry, especially during the Chamber business. That was no way for a family to act. And for that matter, what was that about ‘those people?’ He well remembered how Harry was dressed and looked when he came back for the start of school each year.

What was going on here? If he could find Harry and maybe Hermione too, he’d ask.

Neville put two and two together and didn’t like what he came up with.

Maybe it was time to start doing instead of thinking. If anything, it was past time.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Harry was in such a state of mind that he simply couldn’t decide how he felt.

Confused? Sure, to some degree.

Surprised? Of course.

In pain? Well, yeah, but he was trying to hide that from Hermione and Luna’s knowing smirks. Everyone else was oblivious.

Happy? He could sing.

Not about Luna. She had revealed a devious side to her that Harry was trying to reconcile, even if he could say he reaped an advantage from that ability. Harry couldn’t even be upset about it, not when it pushed Hermione into the actions she took. That was quite nice too, in his opinion. He decided that where Luna was concerned he was probably going to be confused and off-balance the rest of his life. It seemed to be the safest way to go. Harry thought a little more and decided that while she really did have his best interest in mind, it was best not to try to figure it out and accept it.

He shifted his posture a bit on the bench to relieve the pressure he was still feeling and wondered how many people were talking about the display they’d put on. Someone was on his other side saying something and oddly it wasn’t Ron. In fact, neither of them was too sure that he’d shifted his attention from his plate long enough to have caught the kiss. It probably would be best to talk to him later, together.

Harry looked over to see Katie peering at him with the corners of her mouth turned up. The gleam in her eye as she watched the happily chattering Hermione on his other side didn’t bode well for his peace of mind. Oh, no, not from Katie. He had seen that look on her face too many times over the years. Harry knew he might as well find out what was on her mind now, or he’d regret it later if not now.

“I’m sorry, what was that Katie?”

“Got any new Patronus memories, Harry? Anything from say, the last few hours?”

He decided that innocent look on her face was anything but.

“Um. A few? Kinda? Maybe?” His eyebrow came up, confusion on his face.

Her grin and speaking glance toward Hermione told him what she was referring to and he moaned inwardly. Of course. She knew something she shouldn’t be aware of at least yet and how she found out about it was anyone’s guess. Quidditch practice tomorrow morning was going to be a right bitch. He just knew it.

“I _juuuust_ bet you do, Potter. Did she tell you about the harem trying to catch you?”

His hand froze over the serving dish. It zoomed back by his side as Harry turned to look at Katie. Eyebrows furrowed together as he pinned her with aninquisitive glance. He couldn’t really see into her mind and discern what game she was playing at, so he answered as tentatively as he could.

“Not so much as Luna did, but how do you know about it? I just found out. For that matter,” and he started wondering more, “just how long did you know about it?”

Katie’s face bloomed in unholy amusement and he groaned inside again. He was not going to hear the end of this. He just knew it. It was going to be a long time before he got to his bed up in Gryffindor Tower and trying to escape would just look bad. Especially since Hermione would expect him to walk her up all those staircases.

There had to be a conspiracy against his peace of mind. Everyone was out to get him, he just knew it. He could prove it given some more information, and whatever Katie was thinking might be the last piece he needed. Once the proof was in his hands then he wasn’t paranoid, right?

Absently, he wondered how many times the phrase ‘he just knew it’ was going to run through his mind just tonight. Tomorrow would be worse. He turned back to Katie, trying to banish his thoughts.

“Oh please _Lord Potter._ The more you’ve grown and filled out, the more the sign-up sheets have been filled out – so to speak. There’s been a lot of sign-up sheets and a lot of discussion. We girls talk. Want to bet what about?” She cooed the last sentence at him.

He gaped at her obvious amusement.

“And I know what kind of discussion goes on in the Quidditch locker room, remember. You boys might not think you can be heard but sound carries. We know what you guys talk about and what interests you. What makes you think the girls’ dormitories are any different? Does the word _dimensions_ mean anything to you?”

Dread filled his mind as he imagined just what girls might say or who would be saying anything and his mind blissfully locked up.

“I think you broke him, Katie,” Parvati’s voice giggled after a moment.

“Looks like it. Hey, pass me some of that roast beef before he wakes up.”

Parvati did and snorted when she look at Harry’s face.

“Have you told him all the girls who signed up?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for him to wake up again before I do. I want to get some of the treacle tart, too. If I don’t distract him enough, I won’t have a chance.”

Parvati leaned closer to Katie and whispered in her ear.

“Both my sister and I signed up on the same line. A two for one deal, you might say. We’ve caught glimpses of Luna’s latest masterpiece while she was drawing it.”

Katie chuckled and whispered back.

“Bad girls. Think poor Harry would have enough stamina to handle both of you, much less a harem?”

“We’ll watch Hermione and see how she handles it. How well she sleeps, let us say.”

“Oh, I bet!”

“Padma wants to know if she’ll share.”

Katie snorted. She looked at Harry and saw that he was starting to blink his eyes. She shushed Parvati.

“Are you back with us, Harry?”

“Um… yeah… I think so.”

“Good! Pass me those potatoes, would you?”

The potatoes found their way over to Katie without incident and soon onto her plate. There was a short spell of eating and no conversation. Parvati looked up to see Katie smirk and quickly looked at Harry to see round two in tonight’s game of Tweak Harry.

“So Harry, ever wonder who’s in that prospective harem looking for you? They all want to _help you out_ with any problems and let you _release any pressure._ I’m told it would be a _pleasure._ ”

His eyes widened, and he glanced at Hermione. She was busy talking about something in one of her classes with one of the Hufflepuff girls that had come over for supper and wasn’t paying attention. He knew Katie was up to something but what it was he didn’t know. At all. He had to say something, however.

“Ummm, no I don’t?”

He didn’t think that kind of answer meant he was wondering. Harry should have realized who he was talking to.

“Glad you asked! You see,” she said while ignoring the confused look on his face, “there’s a ranking system for top-tier harem talent.”

“Talent?” he murmured. She continued on while Parvati tried to stifle her laughs.

“Of course! There’s different judging done based on looks, carriage, and abilities,” she waggled her eyebrows while she speared a small potato on her fork and pretended to suck on it before running her the tip of her tongue around it. His eyes went wider. If this kept up, he was going to have to catch them before they fell out on the floor.

“Abilities?” he said weakly. Katie pressed on with all mirth.

“Of course! And then there happen to be the ones that _work well together,_ which in itself could bring up plenty of sticky situations if you’re not careful. You know, things like twins. Or pairs, or for that matter, preferences.”

His face froze again. Parvati was sitting _right there_ , and over her shoulder he could see Padma during the mention of twins. His mind went off into the wild heights of the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall.

“Quick, Parvati, get the treacle tart and act innocent when he unlocks!”

“Me, innocent?”

“Well, the best you can. Hurry!”

Katie took it, passed the treacle tart out around the table and ate a piece herself. It took several minutes before Harry seemed to take a breath as his mind wound down. His face showed a healthy blush as he looked around.

“All right there, Harry?” The question was posed with as much naivete as Parvati could pack in, not that Harry would have noticed.

“I’m ok, um, Parvati…” The thoughts that he’d been having threatened to lock him up when she batted her eyelashes at him. Harry dragged his eyes down to his plate as fast as he could before he looked over to Hermione. She glanced at him and kissed his cheek as she laughed at some joke the other side of the table was springing on her. She hadn’t been paying attention to Katie’s shenanigans and took a moment to look at Harry. It didn’t take long to see his expression.

“Harry, are you okay? You look embarrassed.”

“Um…” He decided that it was safest to finish the food on his plate.

Katie jumped in. The piety in her voice might have fooled a firstie right after Sorting and Harry Potter after his shock.

“Just warning him about the roving bands of wannabe Potter harem girls in the castle, Hermione. Lord Potter here has to be protected from the jackals, you know. There’s what, four or five now?”

Parvati jumped in, even though her virtuous voice could have used some help.

“If not more. They’re like ants at a picnic.”

Katie grinned at her before turning back to Hermione.

“And of course, ants like to go for the sweet stuff. We all know our Harry is as sweet as chocolate and strawberries. Or maybe whipped cream and strawberries.”

She winked at the other girl behind Harry’s back, which almost set Parvati off again. Hermione raised an eyebrow, seeing that butter wouldn’t melt in Katie’s mouth and knowing that she was up to something.

Harry spoke up after a moment. The confusion in his voice was evident as he looked around.

“Wasn’t there some treacle tart here just a moment ago?”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

After the meal was over and students returned to the common rooms, Hermione turned to Harry.

“Harry? Join me in the Discussion Corner?”

He looked at her askance.

“Sure, but about what?”

“I wanted to ask you something else. Do you trust me?”

Of course he did, so they found the little sign and put it out. It didn’t take long for the others to notice and for stealthy word to be spread. However, since this _was_ Hermione, any attempts to eavesdrop was foiled by a quite strong _Muffliato_ and a new charm to them to baffle the attempts to lipread either of them. It was backed up by a prank item from the Triple W to convince any visitors to go elsewhere, something like a _Confundus_ charm.

“I wonder how many of them will be walking back and forth?” he mused.

“Most of them, hopefully. Now, do you know what I wanted to ask you?”

He thought about it. This was Hermione, who did know him quite well. She knew that one of his least favorite holidays were soon to arrive, and his eye narrowed just a bit.

“Is this about Halloween?”

She agreed with a nod of her head.

“Yes, and I know what it means to you. I’d be a poor friend and now girlfriend if I didn’t.”

He didn’t say anything but frowned a little and leaned back in the chair. She continued on.

“I’m here for you, just like I’ve always been. I wanted you to know that.”

He smiled at her.

“I don’t doubt that, Hermione. I never have.”

She decided that this business of sitting in separate comfortable chairs was for the birds, so she got out of her chair and sat down in his lap.

“That’s better!”

She sounded happy, and he relaxed a little bit. He still didn’t know what she wanted to talk about Halloween for with him and he waited to see what she would reveal.

“Harry, tell me. If you could have one thing for Halloween, what would it be?”

“My parents.”

The answer came so quickly it surprised both of them. Not that it was his desire or his want, or that it was understandable since he was after all an orphan, but the sheer speed of his answer. Hermione leaned her head down and hugged him close to her.

“My parents… Every year during the holiday season since I found out about them not dying in a car wreck, I’ve wondered what it would have them with me. It doesn’t matter which holiday really, or what time of year to be honest. It’s time spent with them doing the things that families do. I never had that. I know it’s said that you can’t miss what you’ve never had, but it isn’t quite the same thing for me. I wish I have them with me.”

“I thought that you’d say that, although I was also sure you might have said Sirius, too.”

He thought about it. In the short time that he’d had with his godfather, the bond between them had been quite strong.

“In a way, Sirius is a part of them. Remus, too, for that matter. The Marauders and Lily Evans,” he quoted, lining out the phrase in the air as if he was arranging a news headline.

Neither of them mentioned Peter Pettigrew. She held him close, knowing that to do that would bring up bad memories for him.

“I want you to know that I can’t replace them, Harry. I know that Halloweens aren’t easy for you because of that… well, that and all the chaos that usually happens here around that time of year like clockwork, but beside that. You have me this year, even more than you’ve always had me. I’ll be at your side. Where I’ve always been, where I’ll always be.”

There wasn’t anything to say to that, so he did the only thing that made sense to him. He kissed her gently.

Since the _Muffliato_ didn’t affect sound coming in, they could hear hoots and cheers coming their way after the kiss. Hermione blushed a bit and tried to ignore them. She could tell how sitting on his lap was beginning to affect him, but she didn’t say anything.

“Hermione, I really enjoy you being on my lap, but someone else might need this space unless there’s other stuff on your mind.”

She smiled while she wiggled a bit. His nonverbal reactions were quite amusing.

“No, I gave you the most important thing on my mind.”

She stood up and canceled the charms, then took her books to the table and sat down to study. A few others already there heckled Harry for remaining where he was. He ignored them as he was correct in really enjoying Hermione sitting on his lap but didn’t want to advertise that when he got up, so to speak.

It didn’t help when she glanced at him and grinned.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say she knows exactly why I’m still sitting here,” he muttered to himself. “I’m starting to wonder if she, Luna, and Katie are up to something.”

Harry grimaced at the unintended double entendre. He cast another glance at Hermione, who was watching him and patted the seat beside her with a raised eyebrow. The more he thought about the trio referenced in his thoughts, the more it made sense.

“She’s going to be the death of me. I just know it,” the mutter was lower this time, almost a mumble, but he got up and went over to her side. He glanced at her notes and saw that it was her Arithmancy homework. From the way she was going at it, he had a suspicion.

“Just how many feet were you assigned, Hermione?”

“Three feet.”

“So that means you’re going to do five?”

An instant later, he decided to never tease her while she was holding a quill in her hand.

“Ow!”

“And is there a problem with that?”

Harry decided that the sweet tones underlying her question had to be a warning. For some reason the immediate area had gone silent. From the almost predatory looks he was getting, they were all waiting to hear what he said. There was only one thing he could see to say that wouldn’t cause problems and he said it.

“Oh, no, not at all! How crass of me to even suggest it! One should always… um… strive for excellence!” he moaned while rubbing the very sore spot on his shoulder. It felt like he’d been hit with a bludger. Harry squinted at her now-wide smile.

“Oh! So from now on, you’ll write more in your own assignments. I’m so happy! You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

She leaned over to deliver a rewarding kiss while the others at the table smirked at each other at Harry’s predicament. He noticed.

“What?”

Parvati laughed.

“I don’t know who to feel sorry for. The professors who have to decipher more of your chicken scratch writing or you if you don’t start grinding out more words in your essays.”

“What?”

“You don’t realize you just got suckered into promising Hermione that you would write more, do you? So who are you more afraid of, Professor McGonagall at her most disapproving or disappointing Hermione and putting her on a rant and either one talking about your work?”

Harry’s mouth hung open. He honestly wasn’t sure. Either way, he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Miles from the castle in the darkness of night, a group of men crept from place to place. There was something to be gained this night. None of the men were dressed to attract attention, rather they were dressed to deny it. All were in the darkest clothes they could find, under disillusionment spells, and wearing quiet shoes. None wore any cologne or any kind of scent. No one spoke and all knew where they were going.

Their mission tonight was to procure something. What that ‘something’ was, they didn’t know and knew better than to ask. From experience, to ask meant pain. Their master told them to do something and they did it. If there were problems that meant they didn’t accomplish the tasks set for them, then it mean pain.

As far as any of them knew, they had to get a box. An ornate box, something that a lady would store jewelry in. It had raised some discomfort in some of them since there were several ‘ladies’ in this area that would store their jewels in so-called ornate boxes. Considering what some of their number had seen in the past, the word ‘gaudy’ would fit better. Or maybe ‘ostentatious,’ if such a word could have ever been applied to a simple box.

Thankfully, all present had been shown an image of this box. That image had come with both threats and reassurances after the acknowledgment of the target that each man had given their contact. That the threats and reassurances had been the same things was something that everyone knew and understood. One had to be alive to spend the money, after all.

After a few furtive inquiries, it had come out that the Box was located in a tavern tucked away in a scrubby forest. Since the word denoted a densely packed collection of trees, it fit. Barely, but it fit. The group had spent time looking around this tavern and waiting to see what routines the owner and several of his help did. Some had gone inside to look like travelers on their way through to other places. From the offended reports of the more discerning members of the group, it was a terrible place to frequent. Not that it held dangers, but the ale wasn’t worth half a knut.

The leader of the group had grinned at this information and the disgusted looks on their faces. There would be change soon enough. The Box had been sighted under the counter. One of the men had caused a distraction by starting a fight with one of the local artificers, leaving his partner to snoop around. It had cost him three teeth and two broken bones, but the other man’s clandestine searching had revealed what they needed to know. Other information was brought in and plans were made. The Box had to be left where it was until later.

Later was here now, in the wee hours of the morning. Another man had eased into the tavern after killing the dog outside. Five men followed him, each splitting off to rooms on the upper floor. Each man had a bubblehead charm active and several rags soaked with the most potent poisons that they could procure. The doors to each room were vanished silently and the rags were carefully levitated on the faces of each sleeping person in the tavern.

The poison acted by immediately paralyzing the muscles of the victim, then asphyxiating them when the lungs failed to work at their jobs of drawing in air. If any of the doomed people made a sound in the prisons of their bodies, the killers didn’t care. It was all part of the job.

When silence resumed, the group waited another fifteen minutes. After that, the work of getting the Box secured went to the two most senior. They snagged it between them since it was of a fairly large size and apparated out of the silent tavern. The pair was headed to a destination that the others didn’t know about – a camp set aside for their temporary use.

The remainder of the group went from body to body, careful of the poison rags. Anything of value was stripped away. In the case of a few of the more attractive bodies, liberties were taken as there could be no resistance offered to stop them. They considered the use of the poison to be a mercy, but that was all they would do. Anything after that was fair.

Soon, everything was complete. As there was no night watchman, there wasn’t any rush. Every bit of gold, jewelry, and virtue was stolen away. As the last cracks of apparition faded away, the morning light began to reveal the deadliness visited on the small tavern.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

At the waiting campsite, the two men placed their cargo into the storage room with infinite care. Neither wanted to cause damage and be held responsible. After checking that they had performed their duties properly as instructed, they walked out to the main room. There was a small chest on one of the side tables waiting for them. Both men took out their wands and one man tapped the chest. It opened to reveal an iron bolt. He took it and closed the chest, stepping back to give his partner room to tap the chest with his own wand. The chest did the same thing, and soon the second man had his own iron bolt and was looking at it quizzically.

“Portkeys?”

“Yeah, specially made to allow travel through the wards where we’re going for our next job. Boss wants us to look into a hot property and see if it’ll work as a safe house in case we need it.”

“What about the others?”

“All I know is that a couple of others are coming here for their own portkeys to be sent off to a different job and the others have other ways to return. We’re required to do this for our own job and have to be gone before they get here. That could be any minute now. You haven’t said anything about what we’re doing, right?”

The man snorted.

“Please. I don’t know that I’d want them on a stakeout job with me again. This one was bad enough.”

“I have to agree. Anyway, time’s wasting. Ready?”

A nod answered him, and they spoke the prearranged activation phrase. The two men disappeared, headed to their next job.

It happened to be located at the bottom of a volcanic caldera. There wasn’t time enough for dismay to go through their minds before a delayed action spell registered the presence of the iron bolt portkeys and triggered itself.

The result was cataclysmic. The spell package had drilled down into the thinning area of the bedrock at this volcano’s location and set up the eruption of the volcano. Neither man knew or had time to understand that the lava that consumed them was in the thousands of degrees. The muggles would later say in their news services that this volcano was thought long dead and the eruption was as much a surprise to them as it could be. The death toll was in the thousands over the next couple of months. Emergency services did what they could, even with various nations sending aid to the tourist resort area, but everyone had been caught flatfooted. There simply wasn’t much that could have prevented it, as many talking heads on news shows sagely proclaimed.

There were plenty of scientific studies done later at the site, but no trace of the two wizards or the bolts were ever found.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Hermione sat in ‘her’ seat in the library the next day. As the years had gone by, it had become understood by many in the castle that there was a specific seat in the library that should never be commandeered by anyone without bushy hair named Granger. The threat of reprisal against such transgressions was too terrifying to contemplate – or so the rumors went. As time went on, it seemed to newcomers that those rumors had been quite embellished. Still, there was uneasy recountings of this action or that feat that made the rumors appear to not be so dramatized.

So it seemed to the others that it was much more prudent to keep that particular seat always waiting for its mistress to claim it for yet more studious pursuits of knowledge. Better to be safe than to be sorry, of course. It wouldn’t do to have to visit Madam Pomfrey and have to explain what happened. There was general consensus that while the mediwitch appeared disapproving of such things, that there was a hidden scoreboard somewhere that listed all the creative ways the girl had defended her territory. A few people had claimed to have seen it, but clammed up on being pressed for more information quoting various threats and promises from unknown persons.

The library was quiet, as befitted its nature. There was the occasional rustle of paper, a grunt of thought concerning this topic or that one, and sometimes a dropped book. If the dropped book was large and landed on a toe, the strangled yelp that occurred usually drew many disapproving stares from those busy with their work. There was rarely any commiseration since no one wanted to admit out loud within the hearing of Madam Pince that they had done the same.

Hermione ignored all of those things. Her attention focused elsewhere, on a special project.

“What can I do to help Harry?”

The mutter was more subvocal than anything normally loud enough to hear, but the thought behind it had wound its way through Hermione’s mind plenty of times before. This time, it passed her lips. As there was no one else at the table, it passed unremarked. She herself didn’t realize she was muttering to herself, which was a sign that she was concentrating hard on something. Every Gryffindor knew it as a sign to tread carefully, quietly, and with much stealth.

“Okay, let’s review. Harry doesn’t have his parents. Harry needs to know what it’s like to have parents that love him. My mum and dad both like him, but that’s not the same. Mum in particular likes to tease me about him, which is another subject I hope Harry doesn’t find out about. That’s beside the point.”

Unknown to her, several locks of usually restrained curly hair had found escape without her notice or permission. Hermione was too busy with her work to notice this and so didn’t know that it gave her a slightly maddened air. This helped to shoo away others who would have otherwise interrupted her. Again, the Gryffindors in particular knew much better. It hadn’t taken long for them to learn.

When asked about it later, Ron would exclaim, “Are you mental?” This was the most common response from him related to any insight into Hermione, however others would occasionally pop up – always away from her. He’d finally learned his lesson about interrupting her without a good reason. The others found this slow process amusing. Others had already figured out that the word ‘deadly’ applied to Hermione. Something about troubling a tiger in the lair instead of scholar among books. That was sufficient reason to the others and not many decided that it was worth the hospital time and missing classes or time for Quidditch matches.

This was perfectly fine with her, since the appeasement let her get on with it. She had found a stong possibility but it needed more research. Since this was Hermione, if there was more research needed, then there would be more research performed.

“What is this Quanot’s Tear?” she muttered to herself.

She looked at the entry in the dusty book entitled _Odd Happenings of Odd Wizards and Witches_ _._

_**Quanot’s Tear**_ _–_ _549-553_

_For five years the wizard Quanot researched the use of certain materials and incantations to work on time-related studies. It is suspected but not confirmed that what we_ _now_ _know as time-turners owe their existence to the early work of Quanot._ _Curious_ _for this period, there were voluminous notes kept of the study as he worked, much as what the muggles would_ _later_ _call ‘scientific method.’ The validity of this method is not in dispute as it renders results without influence from outside political factors._

_However, the script used to record any such studies, computations, experiments, observations, results, and conclusions has been hard to decipher. To date, only about two-thirds of his work has been translated, with the remainder being extrapolated with the help of wizards expert in the use of muggle sciences such as ‘astrophysics,’ ‘chemistry,’ and oddly, ‘philosophy.’ While this allowed for a much more complete understanding, caution was still given for this work._

_As a standard wizarding education is hard-pressed to successfully navigate the ins and outs of Quanot’s research, it stands to reason that this is a subject that requires further specialized study._

_As for The Tear, this refers to an anomaly during Quanot’s studies where he was able to open and maintain time portal which allowed him to revisit certain points in his own life, although whether there was the ability to affect the past of others it was never known whether it was possible._

_Quanot called this phenomenon The Tear as he had ripped his sleeve in surprise during the manifestation. After more thought after he returned, he said it was as good a name as any and referred to it in that manner afterward._

_According to Quanot and separate observation, there was no physical harm done to his inadvertent time travel and he went on to live 125 years more._ _During this time, he pioneered research into spellwork that would go on to become many of the common spells we take for granted today, like_ Lumos, Accio, _and_ Reparo. _Whether The Tear had affected his lifespan_ _or gave him insight into_ _his_ _later life’s work_ _it was never determined._

Hermione raised her eyebrow and decided to look at this a little closer. The thought of Harry’s parents hadn’t left her and another speculation came to her.

_What if_ _I_ _could…?_

She wasn’t sure she wanted to complete the thought. Hermione found a reference to a magical almanac of tables, figures, and formulas related to Quanot’s work that he had compiled. Intrigued, she decided to look for this almanac. It took a moment to locate her notebook, which she’d hidden under several books and some parchment. Madam Pince was such a stickler for her rules that she didn’t allow muggle innovations like notebooks and pens.

So the obvious thing was to hide them with Notice-Me-Not charms keyed to her. Still, it made sense to conceal them as much as possible. There was a lot of information that Hermione had collected that she didn’t want to lose.

There was a lot of information to look for and then she had to find Harry. It hadn’t taken long for her to become addicted to the little kisses he gave her and she was sure he felt the same way.

In a much appreciated piece of happenstance, the very almanac she needed was found soon. It seemed strange that it was mostly farming information and what must have been considered humor at the time, but there it was. It was right in a section devoted to conspiracy theories, humor, and other miscellany. Harry would probably appreciate the recipes she saw in there, given that he mentioned once that he liked to cook, although she would have to give the _‘Rat’s Eye Stew_ _e_ _with Carrotes and Peas’_ a hard pass.

In a thought that had many times crossed her mind, she wondered if there was a way to duplicate the books. She checked out the books along with books on Arithmantic deconstruction of rituals, use of metals in creating foci, and glassworking. She didn’t intend to get into the last one, but it did catch her interest. The illustrations were pretty after all. A little light reading and things would be right with the world.

Hermione looked again at the entry and her eye caught the mention of _Gemino._ She had used it before on small objects and after some thought could see how it could be used as a photocopier. She didn’t want to do it in the library and risk Madam Pince’s ire, so that was one reason she was checking the books out.

The librarian didn’t bat an eye at the books the Gryffindor was checking out. Since she had watched this student start working her way through all the books in the library since the very day she arrived at Hogwarts, Madam Pince simply wasn’t surprised. It had become so common that her attention slipped a bit as the books were signed out and stamped with a return date. After all, the librarian had stamped dates on her books millions of times if not trillions and it had become something that she could do asleep.

Hermione didn’t stick around and got out of the library. She thought it was quicker than usual and would draw attention to her. She didn’t consider that the others had their own classes to get to and saw her movement as usual for her. After all, Hermione Granger had more than one favorite place to be when she wanted to read. Everyone said so, so it was true.

At least six places, everyone was sure. It was a nice day outside, if a little nippy. The others in the library was sure that soon they would see her approach her favorite tree, evict the poor souls with the temerity to have staked a claim to that spot, and proceed to dive into her books. After that, there was only a few things that could move her from that spot. Things like hunger, the weather, and sometimes Harry.

Since she didn’t want Harry to interrupt her while she looked into this information, she had come out here when she had a free period and he and Ron were in class. There was enough to go over and Hermione didn’t need the distraction.

She sat back and thought for a moment. Hermione knew that Harry had a less-than-happy life away from Hogwarts, not that the yearly attempts on his life was anything to sing about. It was something that she had gotten used to even if she didn’t like it. As Harry had bemoaned more than a few times, he didn’t go looking for trouble, it found him.

Hermione wanted to give Harry a better life than what he had to deal with now. As it were, he had no real happiness when he left Hogwarts and it was something that broke her heart. The look on his face when she was atop him when they fell over was probably the most unguarded he’d been with her.

He trusted her not to hurt him like others did.

_But what if I could I do this? If there was a way to return his parents to him, I’d do it and damn the consequences._

For a moment the mental image of her on the quarterdeck of a sailing ship shouting about torpedoes amused her. She got seasick on large boats, so it wasn’t something she would be likely to do. For that matter, she had decline Viktor’s invitation to tour the Durmstrang ship for that reason when he offered it at the Yule Ball. He had understood and had a few amusing stories about those students that couldn’t handle it either.

Still, reminiscing about fun memories wasn’t going to help Harry now. Hermione needed to do some more research about this ritual to see if it could be helpful. She headed back to the Library and her waiting chair.

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Voldemort threw down the _Daily Prophet_ and grumbled to himself about the quality of journalism today. He practically had the paper in his pocket but that didn’t mean it was something he could take pride in. In fact, there were times that he didn’t know who it embarrassed more, him or Potter. The Dark Lord knew even he could be better newspaper editor than Cuffe, and he’d never had any ambitions to do that.

If it didn’t go against his principles, he’d put a mudblood in charge of the _Prophet._ Then maybe he’d get a little more work done and more advancement of his plans! Well, that and maybe a better paper.

The headline that showed today shouted _Potter Predicts Poor Performance!_ It was situated over a picture of Harry Potter walking through Hogsmeade with a stop at one of the shops there and shaking his head.

The article went on to speculate about the future of the shop, which turned out to be Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, and whether the endorsement of the Boy-Who-Lived was enough to keep it afloat in ‘these trying times.’ No mention was made about whether the apothecary was actually having financial difficulties, but the inferences were all there. There was no real explanation as to what exactly Harry Potter had to do with any of it, either.

Granted, when he’d attended Hogwarts, it seemed to always be on the verge of collapse financially. The awful smells that greeted whoever walked into the shop never really endeared it to the patrons, even as important as it was to Potions class and others.

Voldemort asked himself if it was just a slow news day and whether it was worth the effort to liven up the day. If he sent a few Death Eaters to wreak havoc, he was sure that would give him something different to read instead of this drivel. That and one of them could pick up some more Sugar Quills. He might not be a student since long past, but he still enjoyed them.

He was about to do just that when he remembered that he needed to keep Diagon Alley working smoothly until his plans with the campsite finished. In the meantime, he was going to have to grumble about it. Absently, he wondered if Potter had the same grumbles about the _Prophet_ that he did.

There was still much to do today, and muttering about such a thing was pointless. There was only a few weeks left before Halloween and he wanted to have all the loose end tied up at least a few days beforehand. Proper planning and all that.

He speared the Death Eater standing at the door with a solid glance. The man braced himself.

“Call Thurstan. I want an update. I will be in my study.”

The man stiffened on the spot.

“At once, My Lord!”

So saying, he ran out. Any thought of the man Voldemort had left with him. He stood and brushed non-existent dirt from his robes and proceeded to his study. Calling it that was his joke with himself, as it was more like a library. No one dared laugh at his private joke, since the last one to do that found himself without a head.

It took maybe an hour for Thurstan to walk through the door unhurriedly. He bowed to the Dark Lord.

“My Lord commands my presence.”

Voldemort put the book he was reading down. The cover proclaimed itself to be _The Encyclopedia for Magical Insects, 226_ _th_ _Edition._ Thurstan was unaware that Lord Voldemort had any interest in magical entomology and wondered what had possessed him to read about bugs. Nasty things.

“I wanted you to give me an update. What is remaining to do?”

Thurstan took a breath.

“Almost all has been gathered. The last item that I’m awaiting, a shipment of jade from China, is of such quantity and with a magical resonance that apparation is impossible. It has to be shipped using muggle means, and that is slow. I placed the order for the jade, plus a tenth, as the first things once I was given the mission. For some reason, overland transport cannot be used, and the closest I can understand is that the presence of ley lines causes the jade to energize too soon. This causes potential explosive situations.”

Voldemort nodded. It made sense, even if he was displeased at the delay. It wasn’t something that Thurstan could be blamed for. He listened as the man went on.

“This means that it has to be sent over water. The jade absorbs the energy in water and this creates a buffering effect. Unfortunately, as in this case, weather sometimes causes extra shipping time.”

“Weather?”

“A large squall line popped up at sea, My Lord. Nothing was damaged, at least in our respects, but while the shipment will still arrive it means that we have to wait a few more days.”

“How do Muggles handle this kind of situation? Surely they have important things that get thrown off too?”

Thurstan shrugged.

“I’m told they deal with it and get other things done while they wait.”

Voldemort nodded. That was sensible.

“Special portkeys have to be made by the primary user, as you are aware, and I expect the shipment to arrive soon. When it gets here, I will return here to pick up the portkeys you make. The shipment is divided into parcels, but it’s a simple matter to use magical energy to rejoin the pieces.”

“And everything else has been gathered, you say?”

“Yes, My Lord. All, aside from the jade, are waiting for you at your convenience.”

Voldemort dismissed the man and returned to his book. His mind wasn’t on the contents, but on the plans that he had. Soon there would be something new for the _Daily Prophet_ to print.

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Sometime that evening before curfew, there was a cry of victory in the Library.

“OF COURSE! HOW COULD I MISS IT!”

Plenty of dirty looks, glares, and angry muttering greeted this exclamation, but it was in vain. The target of this collective reproval had already dashed out of the Library and was in search of her target.

The chair was left cooling, awaiting the next visit of its mistress.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

\-- Trigger warning - a scene of rape and general violence -- 

It was soon time to do the preparations for the ritual. Voldemort flipped open the pocket watch that he preferred and grinned without humor. Another few days and he would be preoccupied with the next few steps in his plan. That didn’t mean that he could tidy up some loose ends. In fact, now was a good time to do just that.

Everyone but his next appointed visitor had been shooed out. The fire in the hearth was burning strongly, releasing heat and light into the room. A carafe of water sat at the table next to him, charmed to maintain a near-frozen state. The condensation on the outside of the carafe lent itself to interesting patterns as several water drops trickled down the sides.

He rested his gaze on the man kneeling before him with shivers of fear running through the shrunken form. Voldemort had discovered that there had been some… discrepancies in the work he’d expected to have done by the man before him, things that could not go unanswered for. He spoke, the words easing out smoothly and with malice dripping from every syllable.

“It seems that there’s something you have to tell me.”

The frown on the Dark Lord’s face twisted up into a cruel smile when he saw a bead of sweat drop to the floor. He kept his peace, waiting to hear what answer he was given.

“U-uh… w-what is that, my Lord?” The man’s head didn’t rise.

Lord Voldemort didn’t answer right away, preferring to let the man stew in his own juices and fears. He needed a volunteer for what he had planned today, and whether the person came to him of his own free will or not didn’t really matter to him. There was too much to do.

“You have a few things you’ve kept to yourself don’t you, Jensen?”

Silence.

There wasn’t much that the man could say to him. A wave of a hand and Jensen’s head came up just enough to reveal his eyes. He whimpered and the Dark Lord took that as implied consent with a brutal legilimency attack. The only sound in the spacious room was the grinding of the man’s teeth in his quivering jaws as Voldemort ransacked his mind. There were no barriers worth anything as the revelation of hidden bank vaults sprang to the forefront of the abused mind. These vaults held a vast majority of what had been promised in support.

A little more consideration, and the continued almost idle rummaging showed that there was a secluded property that the Death Eater had sent his wife and young daughters to. Voldemort grunted and made a mental note to himself before he pressed on to see what else was available.

There were several of Jensen’s memories of various rapes and tortures of Muggles in surrounding towns. It seemed that these were treasured memories, considering how easily they came up. These, he discarded as irrelevant after discerning that the Muggles were actually distant family members that had no idea of the magic users they were related to. Another idle thought wondered if they had been squibs. It didn’t matter. He had found what he needed.

A bit of multitasking was called for. Since Voldemort had already breached the rather pitiful defenses of Jensen’s mind, it wasn’t hard to press the yew wand to the man’s Dark Mark and trigger a control sequence in the Mark similar to the Imperious curse. The kneeling man’s head snapped up quick enough to hear a slight _crack_ as the vertebrae released some pressure. Had there been another person in the room observing, they would have noted that the muscles in Jensen’s neck was standing out in a stark bas-relief. The increasing sweat there glinted as it reflected the light from the fire. There was no resistance possible as Voldemort issued compulsory orders that brooked no argument. The moment that the Dark Lord felt that his work had settled and there was no defiance, he released the man with a rough shove. Jensen flopped to the hard floor and gasped for air.

“ _Crucio!”_

The walls of the room resonated with the screams ripping from the strained throat. Voldemort dropped the curse after fifteen or so seconds and ignored the moans trickling up from the floor. He sat in the throne-like chair and went over what he had found out. Some things would have to be changed. Jensen finally struggled to his feet and staggered out. Voldemort watched him go without any sympathy.

Oh yes. Some things would have to be changed and he knew just what to change.

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Marie Jensen smiled at the sight of her little girls playing together. It was something she enjoyed seeing, considering that the sisters had strong wills of their own and this sometimes lead to some real knock-down drag-out fights. She always had to referee these, since her _big strong husband_ said he knew better than to get in between two fighting females no matter how old they were. It didn’t help his case when he would say it with a smirk. Somehow, he didn’t find himself slapped silly although it had been a very near thing a few times.

It had gotten old when the girls were five and six years old, respectively. Now, almost ten years she wanted to wind them up and set them on him for that damnably smug smirk. Even if she knew they weren’t ‘little’ any more, meaning she had to be more inventive in her punishments for fighting it would serve him right for not helping her out.

After all, Eliza and Amira needed examples of this for when the day comes that they needed to punish their husbands, right? She intended to teach them what they needed to know.

At least they were all under a Fidelius. She knew what her husband did for the Dark Lord, and while she didn’t completely agree with it she knew better to voice her opinion on it. As long as she and her daughters were safely hidden away, she could live with the knowledge of the activities of the Death Eaters.

_She could live with it,_ Marie told herself yet again.

The security of their home was a plus. There was no chance that the Aurors knew where they lived, since the Ministry had moles in place to erase any note of their location. All the taxes were conveniently forgotten, all the inspections infinitely delayed. As far as the magical government was concerned, 28 Owl’s Hollow Perch didn’t exist.

The nearest neighbor, Number 19, was three miles away. As far as the inhabitants and visitors knew, 19 was the last homestead on a broken dirt road that stretched almost twelve miles in a meandering line. This meant that there was a great deal of quiet for the neighbors both magical and mundane, and nobody bothered anyone.

The few magical neighbors were taken by surprise when a sudden chill dropped the air temperature but didn’t go down much. Those that could cast Patronuses ran outside, the thought of Dementors loose and on a rampage foremost in their minds. They faced the coldest area and shouted the incantation.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_

The Patronuses manifested and charged outward… and came to a stop. At each magical address, each looked around their respective properties to see nothing requiring their magic. A rabbit, a beagle, a bull, and oddly, a goldfish all looked at their casters then and expressed the magical equivalent of befuddlement. The bull pawed the ground and snorted irritably before disappearing after the others.

The wizards and witches felt the same. If no Dementors, then what could it have been? Most were on pretty good terms with their non-magical neighbors and were fairly sure the ones that did that thing they called ‘science’ or whatever it was couldn’t affect the weather.

Although that one could tell whether it was going to rain with frighteningly good accuracy. They wondered about him.

The air was starting to warm back up to what it had been and soon it was as if nothing had happened. Something wasn’t right. One decided to go visit her neighbor, the muggle good at predicting the rain. Soon she was rapping on the front door of his house.

It opened to reveal him standing there a little blearily. She hastily checked her watch but saw that it wasn’t too early, only about eleven.

“Jim? Did I wake you up?”

He blinked a bit, but shook his head.

“Marissa? Yes, but it’s okay. I needed to get up anyway. Good timing. Come in, come in!”

He stepped back to let her inside.

“Can I get you anything?”

She could smell what he called ‘coffee’ being brewed somehow and wondered. If he was asleep, then how was the coffee being brewed? He lived by himself, she knew. Since he wasn’t magical, then someone… Her eyes widened.

“I’m sorry! Did I interrupt… I mean, I don’t know if you have company… er…”

He saw her face redden and grinned at her.

“No, you haven’t interrupted anything and no one else is here. I got a new coffeepot with a timer. It makes it a lot easier to have a pot freshly made when I wake up. These swing shifts at the station I’m having to work is really putting it to the test. I wish I could take it with me when I head out on assignment, but it’s too bulky.”

“Oh.” For some reason, she was relieved to hear that.

“Would you like a cup? It’s a medium blend and not as strong as I usually drink.”

“Er… yes, thank you. I’ve never had this ‘coffee,’ but I’ll try it.” She was curious. Jim was an American on some kind of scholaring exchange, so he did some strange things sometimes. Maybe this was one.

“Sorry I don’t have the tea you English girls like.”

He poured the cup for her from a steaming glass carafe, which wafted a familiar scent toward her that she just couldn’t quite place in the already odd scent of the ground coffee beans. She smiled at him and took a sip of the hot liquid.

Her eyes widened at the chocolate overtones of the coffee.

“Good?” He smiled at her expression.

“Quite. Is this chocolate? How did you get this taste?”

“It comes like that. I don’t know how they do this or the other flavors. Something to do with the roasting process, but there’s a lot of different ways to do it.”

“Interesting.” It was, a little, but her attention was caught by his smile.

“I’m glad you think so. I like it.”

“I think I do, too.”

He smiled again at her and she smiled back. She took another sip, relishing the new flavor.

“I was hoping you would come by, Marissa. I wanted you to try that blend so maybe that was why I had it ready.”

Was he flirting with her? If he was, well, she was appreciative. Maybe this coffee was something to try more of.

“Maybe you can show me more kinds later.”

“Maybe,” he grinned.

She took another sip and put her cup down.

“I wanted to come ask you about something strange. What could make the temperature drop so quickly and then go back up within minutes?”

He paused, thinking.

“Micro-climates, humidity, any of a number of things, but not a severe range. Not unless there’s something causing it in a controlled environment like the hangars used for aircraft testing. If it was a storm or something there would be a good deal of warning and it wouldn’t necessarily happen out of the blue.”

“Hangars?”

“Big building to store and work on airplanes.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know. Not my thing.”

Shaking his head at what she apparently didn’t know, he went on. It was possible she wasn’t an airplane type like he was. From everything he could tell, she was a really grounded person, literally. Marissa seemed to always have some kind of plant in her hands or in her garden.

“Maybe I could show you along with those new blends.”

She looked at him, pondering. It never hurt to have new experiences sometimes, right?

“Maybe I’d like that.”

She raised her cup to her lips and took another sip. There might not have been a muggle reason for the chill, but maybe when they all got together at John’s cookout at Number 10 next week, they could figure something out.

In the meantime, it could be that she and Jim would figure something else out that had nothing to do with chills. He got up to refill her cup, and when he started to sit down she patted the seat next to her.

“Tell me more about these hangars and aircraft…”

He smiled even more.

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There was no smiling at Number 28.

Marie was staring dumbfounded at the men in her house wearing Death Eater robes. One was her husband, who was standing next to someone who could only be Lord Voldemort. Marie had never seen this person before and even with all the descriptions she’d been given, he still terrified her. The tall, thin man with red eyes and no real nose stared at her and she stiffened. There was a mental caress that made her feel dirty even as her eyes flew wide open.

His smirk was one of the most cruel that she’d ever seen on anyone.

_No, not cruel. Evil._

She tried to hide that thought, even knowing too late that he could easily pick it out of her mind. Her heart sank as the smirk grew wider.

“Oh, yes, Marie. I’m far from cruel and as your Lord, I’m bound to prove it. Jensen?”

She watched as her husband stepped forward and took his mask off. Marie tried to say something, but found herself mute as the Dark Lord cast a wandless _Silencio._ No one noticed that, but most noticed quickly that she flew back and was stuck to the wall with her arms and legs bound. She watched with mounting horror as her husband kneeled. Jensen took something out of the pocket of his robe and held it up with his head still bowed.

Voldemort waved his wand over the object to search for any portkey enchantments or curses, then took it. It was a Gringotts key, which he displayed to everyone before slipping it into his pocket. Marie noticed that her husband didn’t move an inch as the Dark Lord stepped around him, the robes he wore trailing on the wooden floor like a snake’s slither.

She didn’t like that thought, not with the way he was approaching her trapped position. He stopped and regarded her.

“I assume you don’t know what your husband has been required to do for me today.”

_What?_

She tried to speak and couldn’t as he’d never lifted the silencing spell from her. He didn’t seem to be inclined to do it either, so she shook her head quickly. The corners of his mouth quirked upward as he turned back to the other.

“Oh my. It seems that Mr. Jensen must be an autocratic husband with a will of iron and dominion over his wife and family. Well, then, dear sweet Marie, let me fill the gaps in your knowledge.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, not one bit.

“Your husband has spent a good bit of time at Gringotts with household affairs today, it seems. Imagine my surprise today when he asked to meet with me. Imagine my further surprise,” Voldemort paused and the quirk at the corners of his mouth lifted into an evil grin, “when he presented me with some parchment work.”

The unease in Marie’s stomach roiled more and her heart began to beat faster in her unease.

“This was something new from him. I never had this happen from him at all, so I had to look at what the parchment was. Imagine my complete and utter shock when I found out what he had set up.”

The Dark Lord gestured to the man still kneeling in the same pose.

“It seems that my loyal servant here has consolidated every bit of wealth he controls into a Gringotts vault and given me total access! This will fund our operations for a great deal more. What does everyone think?”

Voldemort looked around at the others as they cheered and smirked at the woman staring at him aghast.

“Of course, tangibles like this property and the Fidelius was immediately transferred to me. I commend you, Marie. You’ve been quite industrious with this. I applaud you.”

He did so, the echoes of his applause bouncing from wall to wall as the expression on her face gave way to tears. He motioned to two of the other Death Eaters, who broke apart from the small crowd and disappeared further into the house. Apparently they were expected to look for something but what, she didn’t know.

“Of course, with such transfers, there are always a few problems to be solved. It’s always best if the person originating such a transfer do the problem solved, of course, but given such times as we are living in… well. It seems to me that it would be best if I were to do that instead of Jensen, here. After all, I will be staying here as the owner and you…”

She didn’t think that her eyes could get any larger in her shock and growing horror. Without any sound from her to interrupt, he went on thoughtfully.

“I don’t have any need for you, or for that matter for your daughters. Bright, vivacious things, aren’t they? The pride in any mother’s eye.”

She could hear screams now and begged now, but he pretended that she had said nothing. In her mind she cursed the silencing spell. There was no way for her to express the dread she felt in herself especially when she saw the other Death Eaters except for her husband take off their masks and robes.

Voldemort turned to the still kneeling man.

“I believe you should be comfortable after your boon to me.” He waved a finger at Jensen, who immediately arose and walked to an overstuffed chair and sank into it. She could see that his eyes seemed a bit empty and not with the spark that he usually had.

The Dark Lord’s attention was returned to Marie.

“I wonder where those daughters of yours are now? I sent those two to find them.”

Voldemort started pacing around the room with his fingers on his chin in a contemplative fashion. As he reached the wall and turned back his wand shot out toward Jensen and Marie could see that he was brutally restrained to the chair he was in with dull green chains around his chest and at his wrists and ankles. Her husband’s eyes cleared up and the start of a question was cut off by another _Silencio._ Everyone could see the distress in his wet eyes.

A few moments after that, the two Death Eaters that went after her daughters returned. They dragged the girls in, Amira first. Marie sobbed to see that there were fresh handprints on their faces. Both girls had been roughly gagged. Eliza had the start of a nasty black eye and stumbled with a limp. Amira had a bloody nose. Marie jerked a look in the direction of her husband to see that he was struggling against his bonds and shouting at the top of his lungs. No one could hear it, of course, but the others laughed at the colors his face was displaying.

Voldemort looked pleased with himself.

“Oh, and here they are. Excellent. Welcome, ladies!”

Amira spat blood at him.

“Who are you, you snakefaced bastard!”

Marie gasped, but the snakefaced bastard in question just laughed.

“You know, I have to admit that I am absolutely that. Still, it would be rude of me not to introduce myself.”

He bowed to the struggling girls being held securely and roughly in the arms of his men. It was quite a formal, almost courtly bow.

“I am Lord Voldemort, and you are in my service. What service you render, of course, is entirely up to me.”

They froze and their eyes rivaled their mother’s for size. They knew the name and coupled with the malicious glint in the cerise eyes, it wasn’t hard to see the danger they now knew they were in.

“You see, girls, your father swore allegiance to me. This allegiance required that he support me. That support means that he gives whatever I require to accomplish my goals. Any means that he might possess.”

They didn’t say anything, and Lord Voldemort didn’t bother silencing them. It was no matter since they didn’t know if they could have said anything anyway, so great was their ever-increasing fear.

“Also, I have to maintain loyalty from those that swear their allegiance to me. Understand?”

He lectured as though standing in front of a class at a blackboard. The girls were a little slow to answer and he shot a low-powered stinging jinx at them. They yelped and nodded desperately. The next words held a slow, steady menace.

“When I discover that there are resources being held from me that I should reasonably expect under an oath of allegiance, I have to take certain… steps. Steps that we take today. This is a matter of boosting morale, you might say. I have to prevent insubordination and keep it from affecting workplace performance, you could say.”

The last words were almost whispered, but everyone in the room could clearly hear them. There was no mistaking what he was saying.

“So, in the interests of discipline against this transgression of allegiance that I’ve discovered, I’ve accepted a fine and this nice property. This is no longer your home, but I daresay that you won’t have to worry about that much longer.”

He left them to think about that as he looked in the liquor cabinet to find a rather nice Scotch. Normally, he wouldn’t drink this but it seemed to him that the occasion called for it. He ignored the cigars he saw – filthy habit, he thought – but a healthy splash of whisky and Voldemort was prepared for the next part of his plan. The Death Eaters looked at him, waiting. He waved a hand at them, negligently.

“You may proceed.”

As the men ripped the clothes off the screaming girls, Voldemort sipped his drink. He watched as the men divided up their tasks. Each laid into the two girls, some more precisely than the others. They took turns violating them, the raping continuing in every way possible. Voldemort refilled his drink after a half-hour, noticing that the Jensens looked to be screaming and sobbing. Both struggled against the bonds they had on them that neither could break.

He noticed with interest that the husband and father had managed to dislocate his shoulder. That would never do, so the Dark Lord pointed his wand and whispered a curse to break the shoulder. Jensen fell back against the cushions of the chair, and Voldemort tightened the chains.

The screaming continued. Eliza was being suspended in the air as two men raped her simultaneously, while Amira had been lashed to an oaken rolltop desk with her face smashed into the wall. The Death Eaters had cast engorgement and stamina charms on themselves to stretch out the abuse. Both girls were visited at least four times by each Death Eater. The spells were recast at least once.

There was a pause after two hours, and Marie had sobbed herself dry. She hoped that there was nothing else that her daughters were expected to do, until she heard the bludgeoning curses break their ankles, knees, jaws and wrists. Voldemort refilled his drink and looked up from the book he was idly perusing.

Both girls were thrown into hard chairs and flogged roughly. There was barely enough room allowed for them to breathe. Their father was sobbing in his chair as he watched the blood from his beloved girls trickle down to the floor.

Voldemort stood up from his chair and motioned to Marie. The Death Eaters caught her as the Dark Lord unstuck her from the wall. They gripped her as he spoke.

“My dear, I hope you understand that there’s a certain way to go about things like those that we’ve been speaking of. You have a role to play in this procedure, and you’ll be the centerpiece in my ritual.”

While he was speaking, two men taking the time to scribe out a triple circle and several runes around the area where Eliza had been suspended. When they were finished, they turned to Marie. Without any delay, they ripped the clothes from her with the same ruthlessness as her daughters had been exposed to. Marie was in soon positioned in the same place, hanging by her wrists as Eliza had been. Voldemort turned to Jensen after charging the runes.

“You have a role to play, too. It’ll be quite soon.”

The two men that had lined out the circle cut a gash in the top of his arm. Blood flowed out, and after vanishing the hair on his head, they used it to draw more runes onto the skin of his head. A murmured spell and Jensen could feel the pull on his magic charging the runes. The skin started to smoke slightly and he started to silently scream.

Voldemort inspected the rune work and nodded in satisfaction after his assessment. A levitation spell picked Jensen up, a vanishing spell got rid of the chair, and a few muttered words changed the route of the chains on the man’s body as he was chained in a fetal position under his naked wife. Voldemort canceled the silencing spells on both as the Death Eaters lined up next to Marie.

“Ready for your part?”

The question was asked with some amusement, but answered with whimpers. Voldemort shrugged. He knelt by Jensen from outside the circle and pointed his wand at the location of the man’s root chakra.

“ _Talem Vim Huius Circuli!”_

Jensen screamed as his body went rigid. Light coruscated, a furious vermillion that seemed to dance with shadows like an old lover. The chains rattled as their bound charge burned into coarsely grained ash and fell to the floor. The Death Eaters stood still, blinking away the afterimages.

Voldemort went back to his drink and that interesting book, waving at the men.

“Continue.”

Again, as with Eliza, the men took turns raping Marie from both sides of the circle. With each ejaculation, the runes on the circles edges glowed brighter and began to hum. After an hour, Voldemort stood up again to face Marie and one of the Death Eater gripped her hair to make her face him. The other Death Eaters made a clear line of sight to him, but stayed in the circle.

“Your turn! Ready? I have plans for Halloween and your husband’s kind contribution helped me with this ritual for that. Your much appreciated contribution will seal tonight’s ritual and grant me the power I require.”

Her answer was whispered in a broken voice, with no tears left to shed.

“You absolute snakefaced bastard. I hope you go to hell.”

He shrugged as her head was released.

“ _Avada Kedavra.”_

The Killing Curse whipped out and Marie slumped. The power in the runic symbols exploded, bathing each man in light and rejuvenating them. For the Death Eaters, it was temporary, but as Voldemort hadn’t been participating he received much more power. As he intended, he was prepared now for his special ritual. He needed to give it time to settle.

The Dark Lord decided that a good night’s sleep was just the ticket. He grabbed the bottle of Scotch and the book on his way out to look for a bed in his new house. A thought stuck and he turned to the girls, who were staring at their mother’s dead, defiled body.

“Sorry, nothing for you to do and no use for you anymore.”

The Death Eaters lined up behind them and he looked at them.

“Do what you want with them. I have other things to do. Take your time and clean up afterward. I want you back at base in three days time.”

He left with a yawn, absently throwing up a silencing charm around the room as the first screams started. He had a nice Scotch to finish off and a good book to read. After that, a good night’s rest. Voldemort was looking forward to that.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

// Note – things heat up between H and Hr.

The scene at the Ministry of Magic was, in a word, chaotic.

People ran to and fro like ants hopped up on sugar cubes. The paper airplanes delivering interoffice memos had the worse of it at first, since they kept invading each other’s airspace. Finally, the magic governing their work figured out a better method by taking the ones that had a common destination and combining them into larger planes with greater wingspan.

The screams when people started seeing the bigger planes bomb destination desks were notably loud, but didn’t drown out the sound of the smaller planes escorting them. Those didn’t have messages to carry quite so much, but traveled from department to department looking for the larger versions to fly with. The screech of a wing of three or four was quite distinctive.

A first-time visitor to the Ministry would be forgiven for the confused impression that something had happened. Given the aforementioned running around, the various alarms and bells and klaxons that sounded incessantly, the hurried conversations often thrown over retreating shoulders, it was a reasonable thought. The most ominous sign was the various boxes of donuts, bear claws, fritters and other pastries laying about completely neglected and without notice.

No one in the magical world ignored sweets, much less free sweets.

Those who had visited before or that worked there _knew_ something had happened. They only had to look at the various coffee and tea urns to see how fast they refilled themselves. Even the few visible house elves was starting to look a bit peaked. The younger ones couldn’t hide the uneasiness from the large eyes all house elves had, but most of the older ones could. A few carried on and kept calm with an aplomb envied by most of the Ministry employees.

Fionn McCartan sighed heavily. He knew today was going to be a bad day. He’d been awakened last night by a giant pulse of magic that blew out several of his windows and startled his cows. It had taken several hours to fix, what with rounding up the beasts that had decided a stampede was the way to go. By the time he’d gotten the misbegotten buggers settled, there was really no point in going back to bed. By the time he would have gotten to sleep he would have had to get up for work anyway.

His wife was sympathetic and had made him eat a bigger than normal breakfast. She had helped him last night, even though it was to repair all the many broken items around their home instead of catching the cows. Fionn blessed her very soul for that and the huge mug of coffee she’d sent him off with. The kiss helped too.

He tried not to think about the fact that she probably went back to bed after he left. To be fair, he would have.

Whatever it was, it had apparently caused a lot of problems.

His desk in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was quivering. Fionn sighed. It never failed. Ever since John Bowman spilled that cask of… whatever it was anyway, his desk had been animated. It wriggled like a puppy sometimes, but he couldn’t requisition another one. Oh no, _he_ had to make do with what he was issued. Bowman managed to squeak out of that incident with no repercussions simply because it wasn’t that big a deal compared to some of the other stuff the Department dealt with on a daily basis.

Fionn glared at the desk, which was trying to shed all the interoffice memos that had landed on it during the night like so many fleas. He resolved to have a word sometime today with Arthur Weasley. Fionn had heard about the antics of Arthur’s twin sons from his niece and nephew. She was a third-year Gryffindor and he was a fourth-year Hufflepuff. Some of the things they related to their favorite uncle in their letters made his stomach hurt from the laughter. It was good that someone took the mickey out of people there. He could think of a few not-so-fondly-remembered ones that could stand a few bouts of deflation.

Fionn looked at his desk, which was crouched to the ground in the most pitiful pose he’d ever seen a desk do. It was like he’d taken a rolled-up newspaper to it for dropping a load in the kitchen. He already had to open a window because of suspicious odors and Fionn knew it wasn’t because of himself.

He shook his head and slurped up another big mouthful of coffee. After that thought, he resolved to go talk to Arthur as soon as possible. Fionn definitely did not want to have to be taking his desk for a walk on a leash on his lunch breaks. Just the thought made him want to run around screaming, but after consideration he decided that doing that would just blend in with whatever was going on today.

After a short mental debate about whether to just go back home or not, Fionn sighed. His boss knew he was here now so it wasn’t going to help matters if he did. He snagged the first memo off the floor after whacking the side of the desk. It sprang upright and he was able to sit down. Another long sigh with his eyes closed, another long sip of coffee, and another dark thought about John Bowman, and he started to plow through all the memos he’d picked up off the floor.

Half an hour later, he was resigned to a simple fact. It was going to be a very busy day.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“Do you trust me?”

They had been headed toward a fairly wooded area when the question made Harry stop. For some reason Crookshanks had been leading them to wherever that location was. This in itself didn’t faze Harry, since he knew the intelligence he contained – every bit as much as his mistress, everyone thought. It was the question that stopped him. The half-kneazle looked around when he realized that there was no motion behind him and sat down to wash his face in irritation. Humans pissed him off sometimes.

“Well, of course I do, Hermione. I just don’t know what you’re up to right now.”

She scuffed the toe of her shoe into the ground, suddenly unsure of how to tell him. Harry looked over her shoulder to see the odd sight of Crookshanks rolling his eyes. That was strange. He didn’t think half-Kneazles, much less cats in general did that. Seeing Hermione seemingly unsure about, well, anything made his thoughts slam to a halt.

Something was going on and whatever it was, it had to be a doozy. She still hadn’t said anything and he was getting more than a bit worried. More so than usual where she was concerned. Harry gently grasped her shoulders to turn her more fully to face him. She wasn’t looking up at him, so he placed the palm of his right hand on her cheek to bring her eyes up to his.

There were tears there and this, more than anything, sent him into desperate-worry mode.

“Hermione, what’s going on. What’s wrong?”

Her eyes met his, worry in the depths fighting with a determination that he recognized. The moment he saw that, he was crushed in a patented Hermione hug. Whatever it was, it was worrying her too.

In between trying to breathe, he could have sworn on a stack of old tattered Chudley Cannons magazines that Crookshanks was heaving an annoyed sigh now. If he wasn’t as befuddled over the situation, he would have found it funny.

“Hermione?”

The tone was questioning, and he kept the frustration out of his voice by a sheer act of will. Hermione muttered something against his chest that he didn’t quite make out, except for the words ‘help’ and ‘rents.’

“Wait, who do you need to help meet their rents? Are your parents behind?” That was the only thing that could have gotten Hermione in this state. She eased up on the pressure and he breathed a sigh of relief while her eyes came back up to his.

“No, silly, they own their home and have for the last six years.”

“Well, what? I don’t have a clue here.”

She paused for a moment and kissed him. Her lips floated over his like the caress of a warm summer’s day breeze.

“I’ve been busy over the last few days in particular looking up a ritual that would help you in ways you haven’t had the help before, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was as sure as I could be that it would work.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“In other words, you compiled a report with charts, cross-references, a bibliography and at least twenty feet of parchments all in that tiny writing of yours. What was this ritual?”

Hermione pursed her lips in a manner quite reminiscent of someone they all knew and glared at him.

“I did not!”

It was more like thirty, but he didn’t need to know that. She hurried on before he could say anything else.

“There’s a ritual described that encompasses a form of time travel. It’s something that the research involved lead to the creation of time turners.”

He grimaced at the thought.

“Hermione, are you sure about this? Going back into time like you did in third year, aside from our adventures with a certain hippogriff, didn’t do you many favors.”

“No, not actual time _travel,_ Harry. There’s a part in this old ritual that let’s you pluck objects from a past time. Only past, never future.”

He thought about that.

“That could help if you lost a book or car keys or something, but I still don’t see how it’s relevant to you or me.”

“I wasn’t thinking about any whats, Harry. I was thinking about someones else.”

He stared at her, thoughts whirling, trying to catch up to her. Certain parts of his mind remarked idly that this wasn’t new. Other parts didn’t comment, resigned to the familiar chase.

“Hermione, what did you mean? Who?”

She stared up at him and soon it dawned on him.

“No…”

“Yes, Harry. Two people that you’ve needed for the longest time.”

His face crumpled, but he held back the tears. Hermione’s face in his vision swam, but the knowledge that she was right there with her arms around him helped.

“But what about you? I’ll always need you.”

She smiled at him and laid her head back on his chest.

“And I’ll always be right next to you. Never doubt that.”

He smiled even as the tears broke free.

“I don’t doubt it and never will.”

They stood there for a moment until the stillness was broken by a grumpy _meow._ Both looked up to see Crookshanks stroll away majestically, bottle-brush tail upright. Harry snorted.

“I guess we’ve been told off to quit wasting time in whatever we’re supposed to be doing and just do it.”

“I suppose so. Crooks gets insistent sometimes.”

Joining hands again, they followed the furry member of their small entourage to wherever he was leading them.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Why did you ask if I trusted you? I thought it was obvious.”

There wasn’t an immediate answer and he turned his head to see that she was blushing. Not just blushing, but candy-apple red. Her face looked hot enough to fry an egg on within mere seconds.

Okay. Whatever it was, it just had to be good. Or bad. Even if it was Hermione standing here blushing, he couldn’t decide which it was until he found out. Harry took a moment to debate with himself.

“Hermione?”

She stopped and turned around, obviously intent on going back to the castle. Crookshanks growled at them, and Harry thought it was a distinctly frustrated sound. He caught her before she could take more than a couple of steps.

“Hermione! Relax! What is it?”

She mumbled something that he didn’t quite catch, again. Harry wondered if maybe he needed to have Madam Pomfrey check his ears. He didn’t think the Bludgers he took during his Quidditch career had caused any problems like that but you never knew.

“Sorry, Hermione, but what was that?”

“If Sirius was still alive, he would have been so proud of you for doing this. He would have called it a great prank on somebody. Who, I don’t know,” she grumbled with a grimace aimed at the ground.

Somehow that simply didn’t answer the question. It did in fact increase his confusion.

“Wait, what? What does Sirius have to do with his and what does his sometimes questionable humor have to do with… whatever this is?”

Crookshanks looked quite amused at this and he looked at the half-Kneazle with something close to dread. Nothing good came out of an expression like that on anyone’s face, whether it was a cat or a human.

“Hermione?” He drew out the first syllable of her name and she glomped him.

“Harrywehavetobenakedtodothis.”

“Wait, what?” Harry wondered if he was going to say this all day. Did she say what he _thought_ she said?

“The ritual to bring your parents back requires that you and I perform it naked, like a lot of rituals of this age do.”

His mind skidded to a halt. It _had_ been thinking about how very nice it was to have Hermione pressed up against him with one of her hugs but the thought that now danced around was surely not something he’d say in public. He felt that he had to say something to reassure Hermione, who he could feel was quite embarrassed.

“Uhmm... okay…”

She barreled on, starting to babble a bit and not even noticing the manly squeak in his voice.

“You’re there as the focus for the magical work, and I’m there to direct it. We have to be, well, naked like I said since we don’t want anything to interfere so no glasses for you either…”

He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed if he couldn’t see what he was doing. Hermione was still going.

“…and I can only have silver daggers and pottery bowls. Today is the best time to do this, in fact in the next hour or two before the sun starts to set. Things like this are usually at night and I don’t know why this is different. The references I found were all very explicit…”

“You don’t say… Explicit, huh?” he murmured. He didn’t think it was possible but her face got even redder.

“I just don’t know how you’ll take all this, especially being naked with me. We’ve just gotten together…”

“Hermione.”

He interrupted her, knowing that she was building up another head of steam – possibly literally, considering the color on her face. Harry brushed a kiss against her lips and felt her relax minutely.

“Honestly. We’ve been dating for years, we just haven’t admitted it to each other. Pipe down a bit and come here.”

She nodded and came to him after dropping her bag on the ground. Harry took her in his arms and held her close. Nothing was said for a few minutes and Harry could feel her heart start to slow from the excited rate it had reached during her explanations. He realized that this was part of her. It was something that he’d known for a long time but hadn’t really thought about it. It was something that defined Hermione and frankly he loved that fire about her. He always had.

The last part of that thought surfaced in his mind, but before he could examine it in a little greater detail, Hermione moved to be let go. He released her and watched as she picked up the bag. Without a word, she continued to wherever Harry was following her. Without any other clues as to what she was about to do, he followed her and Crookshanks.

It took a few minutes but the little retinue soon found themselves at an open space in the trees. There was a small opening in the tree cover overhead, which let in a bit of the day’s fading light and let them see the area around them with the help of several long torches stuck into the ground. There was a cleared area with the ground cover scraped away to bare ground in a circle that was actually quite precise. He could see that it was lined in something like a type of fine powder, white in color. A closer inspection showed that within the white powder was speckles of something glinting in the lowering light. He recognized chips of black tourmaline or maybe it was coal. Other crystal chips had been mixed within the white powder that at least broke up the starkness. Identifying the names of crystal, stones, and rocks had never been his strong suit. If he was lucky maybe Hermione would tell him what was in the mix.

With a bit of unease, he realized that this spot was uncomfortably close to where the centaurs resided. Harry really didn’t want to offend them. He had an uneasy detente with the more militant of the centaurs, although with the ones like Firenze, he had a pretty comfortable relationship. Harry knew that the centaurs had plenty of knowledge that he found interesting, so long as he was in the mood to mentally translate the more vague things they said. He and others were more inclined to say ‘dubious things,’ except he didn’t want to offend them.

Hermione must have noticed the uneasy look he sent in that direction. She walked over to him and gently took his arm.

“The centaurs know why we’re here and for what purpose. They’ve given us leave to be here tonight and wish us well in our purpose.”

Harry was surprised.

“Really?”

“Really. Bane was quite surprised when I told him. He got that contemplative air that they get sometimes and agreed without all the fuss I would have expected from him. I thought he was distracted by something they knew of enough to not be so irritable with me. I wasn’t sure if he was just getting calmer as he got older or what.”

“Bane? You got the grumpiest centaur out here to agree? What did you have to do, get rocks out of his hooves or something? I’m not complaining, mind you, but he’s always been the most irritable centaur out here as long as I’ve known him.”

An amused snort from the edge of the trees interrupted him, and they heard a conversational tone.

“Do you see what I mean, Bane? Even the younglings from other species can tell you’re not the most forbearing. I don’t think you’re getting any calmer the older you get. If anything, it’s going the other way.”

Hermione grinned. Harry looked over to see the aforementioned centaur standing with a sour look on his face. To his side, Firenze stood with a quite amused expression. He turned to a smaller centauride standing closer to him and spoke to her.

“And would you agree, Kateira?”

“I couldn’t disagree, Father. I must be as truthful as possible at all times.”

Harry could see the glint of amusement in her deep blue eyes. He took a moment to look at her, since he hadn’t seen many female centaurs. Hermione seemed to be entranced by her as well. Kateira stood shoulder height to Firenze and shared his blue eyes. However unlike his palomino equid form, she had a rich buckskin appearance with four black socks. Her ‘human’ half had long curly black hair that cascaded down her body. A pert nose and lips that looked like it smiled a lot completed her visage.

Thankfully for Harry’s attention span and possible threat of harm, the thick hair mostly covered her full breasts. They could see that she didn’t bother with any coverings aside from the hair and at this realization, Hermione smacked Harry in the belly as a warning. He grunted and Firenze snorted at his expression and watering eyes as Harry clutched the spot she hit. The centaur whispered something in his daughter’s ear and she pouted at him for a moment before chuckling. Bane didn’t notice the byplay, still grumbling about what she had said earlier as Firenze addressed the humans.

“Now, young Harry, young Hermione. I notice that you’ve reached a great moment in your lives. Congratulations. We are pleased that such an event came to pass as told in the stars. I hope that you have many happy years together.”

Harry squinted up at the centaur.

“Firenze, that sound like we’ve just gotten married. We’re together, but not _that_ kind of together. Well, at least not yet, if it happens. We have a way to go.”

Hermione smiled at the way he phrased it.

“No? We centaurs can perceive things you humans are not equipped to, at least not most of you. Some can. Young Luna and I have have quite interesting conversations. Some of those involve you two.”

The said two in question looked at each other. Was Luna gossiping about them to the centaurs? Kateira laughed, making the bunched hair move precariously.

“We can see the bond you share. Indeed, it has been building up for years now. The only ones that can break that sort of long-term bond are those in it. Strengthen it everyday and no one else will have a chance to damage it.”

Harry thought about that. He’d been thinking about inviting Hermione to see more of the Black library, but he’d get bored. Maybe there was something they could do together? He looked up as Firenze cleared his throat.

“Hermione has not revealed any of your confidences, however, we are aware of her purpose here. Most of us support it,” and sneaking a look at a fuming Bane, “and the council itself has agreed to allow this to happen. However one of us must remain as an observer. That observer must report all that was seen to the council, along with any relevant speculations and opinions.”

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach and he couldn’t help but look at Bane. Firenze chuckled and his daughter did the same.

“No, young Harry. Rest easy. Bane will not be here. You wouldn’t be able to hear yourself think over his grumbles.”

Bane darted a fiery look at Firenze through narrowed eyes. The other centaur ignored it coolly through apparent long practice.

“Then who?” asked Hermione.

“My daughter will remain here while Bane and I return to the herd. She will watch, but not interfere. Questions will be allowed, but do not waste time with those. You have have precious little of it. Daughter, you know your role here. We will leave you to it.”

She bowed her head to him before she kissed his cheek and smirked at Bane’s expression. Firenze winked at her where Bane couldn’t see it and ambled off into the woods. Hermione watched them go, then cocked an eyebrow at Kateira. The centauride rolled her eyes at Bane and blew a raspberry in his direction when she was sure he was gone.

“He’s so full of himself, I’m surprised he can walk straight with being bowlegged.”

A moment of silence lay between them. Then Harry and Hermione burst into laughter. It turned into a choking gurgle on his part as Kateira tied the long black hair back into a loose ponytail. The sight revealed to him caught his attention.

Hermione was impressed herself, but saw the mischievous eyeroll the centauride gave her boyfriend and the wink she gave her.

“Think he’ll pay attention now? He looked tense when you led him here.”

Hermione assessed the black-haired young man.

“I don’t know. He was a bit nervous about being naked with me.”

Kateira was taken aback.

“Why? You’re a lovely girl!”

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course! Your stallion here thinks so too, regardless of any distractions there might be.”

She shook her shoulders at them. The jiggle was quite noticeable and Harry shook his head in a bit of a daze. Kateira giggled at him.

“All right there, Harry?”

He cleared his throat and glared at her. It was not quite the most impressive glare but he tried.

“Was that really necessary?”

He was keeping his eyes fixed on her face this time. She fake-pouted at him as she came closer to them.

“Of course! You know what mare you want. She wouldn’t have done all this for you if she didn’t want the stallion she has right here.” The other two exchanged blushing glances as she clapped a hand on his shoulder.

She ruffled his hair. This broke his eye contact and brought them in line with her breasts again for a moment before she turned away.

“Besides, you’re not my type,” she grinned. This time it was Hermione rolling her eyes. “Let’s get set up. My father was right, there’s not much time to waste.”

Hermione agreed with the flirty centauride. She bustled about etching runes into the ground, drawing out lines and another circle within the main circle. After a good ten minutes of watching her work andmuttering loudly without any orders being flung in his direction, Harry was more than a little confused.

“Hermione?”

“ _What?”_

“Um… can I help you in any way?”

“Get naked.”

He blinked at the brusque tone. Harry looked at the centauride, who was standing nearby with her arms folded under her breasts. A pert eyebrow was raised at him and blue eyes widened in the best melodramic fashion she could manage.

“Well, you heard her, young stallion. Don’t you know you don’t ignore your lady when she says do something?”

He didn’t mention that Hermione was ignoring him, figuring that was the safest course. The muffled snorts Kateira was trying to hold in didn’t stop the jiggles, either. He hoped that she didn’t laugh at him while he was unclothed too. That would be too hard on his male pride. He sighed and started to take off his robes after kicking off his shoes.

Kateira pumped a fist in the air, with the obvious results.

“That’s the spirit, Harry! I think you’re going to have a very happy lady soon!” she chortled.

He unbuttoned his shirt and got it off. Kateira frowned at the scars she saw on his body as he turned to look for somewhere to put his clean shirt. She traded glances with Hermione, who saw the scars too. They nodded to each other’s matching frowns, a feminine communication and agreement that Harry would have no possible way to understand.

He felt arms going around him from behind. He knew these arms and turned his head to see a mass of bushy brown hair. He could feel tears coursing slowly down his back.

“Harry, I’m so sorry. You had to deal with those bastards in Surrey.”

He tried to turn to face her, but her grip was too strong for the moment. He subsided and settled for holding the clenched fists in front of him. After a moment, she relaxed and eased up on the pressure. Before he could turn, Harry felt her kiss the worst of the scars.

He looked up to see Kateira inspecting the scars on his chest.

“Don’t expect _me_ to kiss the scars on your chest, too. That’s her job. And anywhere else too, as many times as necessary.”

Hermione was glad she was behind Harry since her face was red again. She felt him turn and hid under her hair while she kissed the scars on his chest and belly. Harry was blushing too and the centauride’s chuckles weren’t helping.

“Time’s wasting you too. As much fun as it is to stand here teasing, there are things to do.”

Hermione decided that since she was here, she might as well unbuckle Harry’s trousers. Time was wasting, after all.

“Do I get to undress you, too?”

The murmured question came from above and she looked up. A decision was made and she agreed silently. His pants fell to the ground, and he heard Kateira step around to get a better look. Hermione looked up at him and he nodded. Her hand brushed against him and he twitched. Harry heard her gasp a bit and start to ease his boxers down, slowly.

They heard Kateira sigh.

“Quit teasing me. Hurry up and get it over with. I want to see this!”

For some reason, they laughed at the sound of the frustration in her voice. Hermione collapsed in giggles against his body. However funny Harry found the frustration, he was dealing with a different kind of frustration as Hermione’s hand hung from the waistband of his boxers and bumped up against his manhood. Little Harry seemed quite interested in looking around and finding out what was going on, so to speak.

Eventually Hermione noticed Harry’s predicament and jerked his shorts all the way down. Little Harry swung free, unencumbered by such menial constraints as cotton fabric. Thus free, Hermione had a front row seat to watch as Harry’s Tower was being built at flank speed. Her eyes had popped wide. Luna’s drawing abilities, detailed as they were, had nothing on this. She absently wondered if she was going to share this sight in a Pensieve with Luna. Hermione was of two minds on that.

Kateira goggled at the sight. She was being silly when she called Harry a stallion. Now she wasn’t so sure. There was all kinds of jokes and teasing she could avail herself of now but right now she was going to enjoy looking. Too bad she didn’t have a ruler handy. She found herself playing with her nipples a bit, but managed to stop before either of the others caught her doing that. She would have to go find her own stallion after this.

For what it was worth, Harry was pleased at the reactions of the other two even through the embarrassment he felt. He gently pulled Hermione up after disengaging her hand. He wasn’t even sure that she realized she had a grip on him there. Her eyes had a faraway stare and there was really no telling what exactly was going on in that big brain of hers. He had an idea though.

“Hermione… Hermione? Hermione!”

She jumped, a little smile on her face. He could feel four eyes on his body but tried to ignore that.

“Yes, Harry?”

He smirked at her.

“My turn. Time’s a-wasting, remember?”

“Oh.”

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, then closed the distance and kissed him. His hands shook a bit as he eased the robes off her shoulders only to get a shock. She wasn’t wearing anything but a bra and knickers underneath. In a corner of his mind, there was an argument going about whether to be relieved about it being easy or upset because there wasn’t as much to take off. It took him a few agonizing moments to get her bra unsnapped, which made the other two quite amused.

The centauride didn’t make any comments as Hermione stepped out of her knickers and hugged Harry close. They could feel the heat of each other and Hermione was well aware of what his heart rate was. She looked at Kateira, who threw yet another wink at her. She pointed at Harry, whose face was pointed away from her, patted her rump and gave Hermione a thumbs-up.

“Well, it looks like our observer approves of you all around,” she murmured to her boyfriend. He laughed.

“I’m pleased, I think?”

She whispered in his ear.

“I approve, too.”

The smile on his face was all the answer she needed, and they pulled apart. Now that he could, he looked at Hermione. She was slim, with well-toned legs and shoulders. That made sense, considering all the books she carried up and down multiple stairways a day. Their dorm in Gryffindor Tower was fairly high up. Her skin was glistening, from what he didn’t know. When she faced him, he got an eyeful of her chest and the stiffening of her nipples. She wasn’t quite as developed as was Kateira, but then the centauride was different. His girlfriend was perfect for him, he thought, and he wanted to explore her.

He swallowed. If they did that, there would be no ritual tonight. From the look on her face, she had realized the same thing. Harry wondered if the look on her face was the same as the look on his. He reached up to his glasses and handed them to the waiting centauride.

Without a word, she took his hand and led him to the edge of the circle.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

It was late at night after he finally got to bed when Fionn McCartan realized he’d never had a chance to talk to Arthur. He groaned so loudly, that his wife woke up worried that he was having a heart attack.

Who knew what that _damn_ desk was going to do tomorrow?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Neville Longbottom was confused.

This in itself wasn’t as unusual as he was well aware that the dizzying heights his friend Hermione wasn’t as easy for him to reach as it was for her and meant he was more likely to encounter something confusing. It didn’t stop him from trying to catch her academically – a fact she congratulated him about and encouraged him to keep going. Harry was the same way, if not quite as consistent about the ‘trying part’ as she was. This made sense, since she was much more likely to dive into the scholarly pool than he was. It wasn’t to say that Neville was stupid but it was more likely to see him on a broom playing Quidditch than her.

No, this time the reason Neville was confused was because of Luna.

Again, this in itself wasn’t all that unusual. Luna was just as smart as Hermione, so he sometimes felt like he was trying to climb a rope out of a deep hole with her. The various magical creatures that she would occasionally mention kept him off-balance, too. He didn’t know a great deal about those, even if they existed. Luna would mention a given plant that said creatures would inhabit or eat every so often and he did usually know about those.

Today was different, however.

Luna was happy and sad at the same time. It didn’t help his confusion, but he admitted that he liked the way Luna clung to him and sniffled. A few minutes ago, he had found her crying near the boathouse. When Neville got her attention, asked if she was okay and if he could help her, she sprang into his arms. She clung to him like glue.

“Luna? Really, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m happy,” she sniffled again, with a small sob thrown in.

Neville could tell that his shirt was starting to get wet. He had absolutely no clue what to do. None. So he did what he’d want somebody to do if he was sniffling and sobbing and making someone’s shirt wet. He pulled Luna closer and rubbed her back. It couldn’t hurt, right?

It must have worked. After about ten minutes, she gently pushed to be released and _tergeo’d_ the shirt she’d messed up. She looked up to Neville and gave him a watery smile. Luna pulled his head down a little to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Neville. I needed that.”

“Um… do you want to talk about it?”

She smiled, a soft smile that was a little crooked in the corners.

“I’m okay now, Neville. Besides, now that Harry and Hermione are together, it would just confuse you more. You should go find Hannah and Susan. They would love to entertain you.”

She hugged him again and skipped off. Neville stared after her.

“Wait, what?”

He wondered when the confused feeling would stop. Possibly after he left Hogwarts. That seemed to be the most probable answer he could come up with in any case. He liked the little Ravenclaw, since she never made fun of him and was always helpful – well, when she wasn’t being confusing, and even then it helped. Neville knew that she had never lied to him, which helped too.

“What was that about Hannah and Susan,” he mumbled to himself. “Entertaining? In what way? What does Luna know that she’s not telling me? And for that matter, Harry and Hermione?”

Neville wondered if a butterbeer or something stronger would help in figuring out Luna Lovegood. He wasn’t completely sure that it was even possible. Maybe he should take her advice and go find Hannah and Susan. If he was lucky, maybe he’d figure out what Luna was going on about.

It wasn’t like it was something odious to deal with. Quite frankly, he liked their company. He didn’t know how Luna knew to mention them both in casual conversation – or as casual as Luna was on any given day – but he had given up trying to figure out how her mind worked or how she knew things a long time ago. It was a good suggestion, so what could it hurt? He was caught up on his work, for now.

His decision made, Neville started to walk out the door when his eye was caught by some wildflowers by the path. He was supposed to be the best in Herbology, so why not find something like that as a gift for them? The young man figured that it was only the right thing to do. Besides, Neville had some quite nicely blossoming flowers of different types. Professor Sprout was pleased to see them at any rate, if the occasionally missing blooms were any indication.

He made a stop at the greenhouse that he spent the most time in to make some selections. A few minutes later, Neville Longbottom was on his way to find two girls. Maybe they could tell him what Luna meant by entertaining. If he was lucky, he’d understand what they was talking about.

Somewhere on the grounds, a face with a pair of silvery-grey eyes watched him go and grinned impishly.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office and thought.

This wasn’t really anything unusual. An excess of century of life had given him plenty of changes to think, usually about any number of things. He’d been sorted into Gryffindor as an eleven year old, but easily had the smarts for Ravenclaw. However, the Sorting Hat had told him that Ravenclaw wouldn’t have been a good fit for him considering the impetuous nature he’d had as a boy. He’d most grown out of that, but there was times when it seemed he didn’t.

Now, however, he knew that he had to think things over.

For the last month, he’d been having unexplained feelings of death. It was a bit disquieting, since he was in fine health for his age and Poppy didn’t seem to be concerned. For some unknown reason, he had the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be here. Not ‘here’ as in the office seated in his chair, but ‘here’ as in alive. It was getting irritating.

Meditation and consulting his magic hadn’t helped a great deal until he mentioned it to the portraits of previous Headmasters. One, a thoughtful sort named Elias Wiggenspout from 1628 mentioned that as it was almost Halloween, then there was probably spirits trying to cross over. Either that or being invited, as in a séance or some such. There had been one conducted in secret in 1631 that caused a fire in Westminster Hall. Some fool sneezed during the proceedings and knocked over three candles, two large bottles of firewhiskey, and what was supposedly parchments with questionable artwork of the Minister’s wife and mistress ‘entertaining’ each other.

The parchments hadn’t survived the fire, of course, and Westminster Hall itself had its own issues thanks to that. However, a particularly observant wizard with no small amount of personal eccentricity noticed that time itself seemed to freeze. He noted everything he could, to the point of having his robes badly singed before he escaped the fire.

The bizarre wizard, at least to his fellows, had ancestors that dabbled in time-related research. In fact, some happened to be their own ancestors due to some rather unfortunate events. Those had been a bit careless in what they had been doing, and got distracted by certain physical attributes of those in their ancestral lines.

It was all rather sad, really. It made writing out updated wills an exercise in futility, in some cases.

Still, this wizard was quite knowledgeable and had consulted with Headmaster Wiggenspout, who’d had a mastery in Transfiguration and an interest in muggle sciences of the day. Dumbledore talked with his portrait to get more information.

“Albus, Matthias was a bit dotty, no doubt about that, but a better man in theory I never found. The way his mind worked, he could make leaps of intuition that the rest of us had the most trouble following, but at least he could explain his research more or less simply enough. He couldn’t write well enough to put things in a book for later generations, but that was what apprentices were for. Even then, it took a good bit of time to get our mind wrapped around the things he’d discovered.”

Dumbledore figured that the Unspeakables had a good time arguing over that. The portrait went on.

“There was a good bit of knowledge in the trails he blazed, and we who carried on after his death a few years later did what we could, but there had been some distinct thought about whether or not parallel timelines had the ability to affect each other. It was something that we wondered about the rest of our lives.”

The reason for all the thinking the Headmaster was doing was laying on his desk. It was a letter, the parchment yellowed with age and the edges curled a bit. This morning, he had been startled with Fawkes jumped up from a slumber on his perch with a fairly loud squawk before flaming out. He’d been discussing the upcoming budget review with his Deputy Head at the time. Professor McGonagall had been just as surprised as he, and both knew that Fawkes wasn’t in the habit of sudden things like that. It took the Sorting Hat’s reassurances that there was no danger to the castle to relax the two.

At no time during the rest of the hour meeting did the phoenix return. He could only shrug in mystification at McGonagall’s question about where the ancient bird had went. Fawkes had been with him for quite a long time but this behavior was something very new. There was no sense of anything wrong, per se, and the familiar link that he shared with the phoenix was still there as strong as ever.

He could tell that there was a distinct directive coming through that same link to be patient, so Fawkes was doing _something_ that he’d find out later. Whatever it was, he hoped that it would be soon. The curiosity was eating him alive. Dumbledore hated a mystery. He didn’t even read the occasional detective novels that popped up at Hogwarts over the years, confiscated from students not paying attention to the lectures. Other professors enjoyed them, supposedly. He was told that Professor Flitwick and Professor Babbling traded off books between them before returning them to students.

So he’d shrugged at Professor McGonagall and she returned the shrug. It was as she was about to open the office door that Fawkes had flamed in with a letter that he dropped on the desk. He also had something else that neither could make out yet in the burst of light that came with Fawkes’ fiery travel. Both professors watched as Fawkes settled on his perch and started enjoying what looked to all the world like an ice-cream cone. Vanilla, with chocolate sprinkles and some kind of nuts.

That was exactly what it was, although how the phoenix had flamed-traveled with an ice cream cone that didn’t melt was yet another mystery, and of course, Dumbledore hated mysteries. Given the obvious enjoyment that the flamebird was getting from his dessert, the Headmaster had decided that it was beside the point. His Deputy Head had shook her head at the sight and left.

Dumbledore picked up the letter to read it again, this time aloud for the benefit of Headmaster Wiggenspout. His half-moon spectacles glinted in the afternoon light and he grimaced at the smacking sounds coming from the perch.

_Albus_

_This is a time-locked letter linked to Fawkes. You are probably surprised at the sudden disappearance and re-appearance of your old friend, but there’s a reason. Fawkes is older than any of us, and will live longer than our many times great-grandchildren, so I figured this was a good way to do this. Besides, he’s a sucker for fresh fruit. How a bird like him stays so slim with his glutton ways, I don’t know._

_Don’t ask me to explain how I did the things that led to this letter being in your hands. There’s not enough parchment to do that and I don’t have the time to write a textbook that would span several volumes. Just take my word for it. Trust me, there’s enough to be going on with as it is._

_Now. This letter is being written in 1801, on the 12 th day of August. If I’ve done my calculations correctly, the next full moon is supposed to be on the 23rd at around 10 in the evening. Since you happen to nearly two centuries past this letter, you can look up a lunar table to see I was right._

Dumbledore did just that. It took him a few minutes to find the right table, since the book in question was quite dusty. Sure enough, the writer of that mysterious letter was right. The Headmaster went back to the letter.

_I only know about you specifically as the Headmaster of Hogwarts,_ _both by sight and by voice._ _The time ritual’s calculations get far too involved even for me when I try for more than maybe three people. As it is, the great distance_ _from my point in time to your point in time make it hard enough. So I have settled for you and general knowledge of_ _four_ _others. I am not bragging when I say general knowledge is much, much easier._ _I don’t have to worry about hearing, just watching._

_As I sit here, Fawkes is perched on the edge of my desk eating frozen blueberries and giving me a look that demands that I quit wasting his time. No, he is not my familiar and I will never be that lucky. Still, he and I have come to an understanding. That understanding involves bribery with blueberries. Take note, if you haven’t already. If you want something done, use those._

_There are four people that will be important to you in a battle of some kind. You are to support them, but not lead them. Your time to lead has passed and at your age, you would best placed to contribute to volunteer your wisdom. The young one with the scar will be the leader as I believe he has been for some time. He has a great deal of trouble in his life, as I see, but that is for the second one to help him._

_I’ve watched that one_ _with interest_ _._ _She doesn’t fit what I think to be a young lady in my time._ _To_ _just_ _be seen and not heard isn’t something I would think would be accepted from her, to tell the truth, and somehow I couldn’t see that happening._ _Not without a good reason._ _I haven’t seen that much hair on a young girl in a long time_ _and_ _despite that,_ _she’s familiar to me somehow. I haven’t figured it out yet_ _and the mystery is irritating_ _._ _That one’s a raging fire if she gets riled up. A devilish punch, too._ _Hair aside, she seems to just fit him. Both raised with Muggles, one badly_ _and_ _one not, both as true of warrior_ _stock_ _as arrives in every generation. If you don’t guide them properly, I will tell Fawkes to peck you. He has pecked me enough to know it myself._

Dumbledore shuddered. Fawkes had a habit of inflicting some painful pecks when he felt like someone was being dense and he didn’t have time to lead them to the right answer.

_There are two others that I can’t really see much of, but both are connected to the boy and girl both in some way. I believe both new strangers are extremely trustworthy, but I would suggest you never lie to them. From everything I can tell, I’d rather be pecked a hundred times than be in their displeasure. It seems to me that whoever those two are, they are to be in the confidence of that young man and his young lady. There’s too much at stake for them not to be. All four have an important role. I hope that aside from you, they can gather staunch allies._

_As for the upcoming battle, all I can tell you is that it involves Evil, its plans, and its desires. Not Dark as I would call it, and as I suspect you would call it, but pure Evil. I’m sorry, Albus, but in order to defeat whatever this is, those four will need to be Grey at least. There can be no Light without Dark, remember, no White without Black._

_Your role should be as an advisor, the most objective as you can be. There are no public accolades worth having to be won, no glory, no riches. Nothing from this Evil, save for the knowledge that the weak have been protected. That is our duty – some use the term ‘duty of care,’ but I just call it duty. We have to see to it that the young have a change to grow up and carry our ways into the future, and as Headmaster of Hogwarts you are positioned to do that. I hope that you’ve been doing that up until the time Fawkes brought you this letter._

_See to it, Albus. That scarred lad has a terrible job set before him. I’d go so far as to say a Requirement from Magic itself. He needs the support from family, friends and loved ones like that girl. Don’t get in her way where he’s concerned or she’ll knock you out. And frankly, you’ll deserve every aching jaw, loose tooth and broken nose she gives you. I tell you, that girl’s a firebrand._

_Be ever vigilant, Albus. There is too much at stake._

_Matthias Granger_

_Master Wizarding Artificer_

_The Savannah_

Dumbledore stared at the paper. The place that was mentioned was an old dwelling that hadn’t seen any wizards for at least a century, but it seemed to be in perpetual good shape. The name… could this be a relative of Miss Granger? He rubbed his crooked nose absently as he looked at the last line. She could be ferocious, that was for sure.

And that job title. There hadn’t been a wizarding artificer for a long time. At least a century or so. He couldn’t really remember the last one personally, which at his age was saying something.

Fawkes settled on his desk and the old wizard looked at him.

“Well, old friend, is this letter genuine?”

Fawkes looked up at the Headmaster with a pitying look and pecked his hand.

“Ow!”

He glared at the bird, who looked at him innocently. The effect was slightly ruined by a dribble of melted vanilla ice cream from the corner of Fawke’s beak. Dumbledore started wondering if phoenixes suffered from senility and if he needed to be concerned.

“Fine, fine. It’s genuine. Are you happy?”

Fawkes trilled, the notes sounding a bit smug. The old wizard glared at the phoenix again, who easily ignored him. Dumbledore sighed and decided to show the letter to McGonagall when at theevening meal, if not before. He got back to work, trying to ignore the snickers coming from the portraits who had witnessed the whole thing. It didn’t help when someone muttered _‘try the strawberry one next time’_ and Fawkes appeared to be considering it.

The Headmaster eyed the stack of parchment work waiting for him. It never failed to be impressive. He wondered how he could get out of doing it and also get away from a crazy phoenix.

_Where is a Dark Lord when I need one?_

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Harry was sure that his face had been as red as Hermione’s as he thought about what was to come. She had stopped before entering the circle to tap her wand to a rune that he couldn’t really see but she apparently could. The loop flared up in a riot of colors before setting down into a warm red shade, with what seemed to him to be a fairly slow pulsating rhythm. It was pretty regular and he couldn’t help but compare it to a car engine running at idle.

He didn’t have time enough to think about this any more when she engulfed him in a patented Hermione hug for a minute or two. Certain parts of him felt quite appreciative, so he didn’t complain one bit about the embrace.

“Hermione?”

His tone was questioning and she kissed him gently.

“Do you trust me, Harry? Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

The answer came out before he could even consider to himself how silly that question was. She nodded, a small smile on her lips as if she knew what the answer was going to be but had to ask it anyway. Hermione loosened her grip on him but didn’t let go as she turned slightly to the side away from the waiting circle.

“Benvolio?”

The name sounded somewhat familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t place it. He watched as a positively ancient house-elf appeared with shaggy eyebrows, droopy ears and crooked fingers. He looked older than dirt, so to speak, but Harry could feel the magical power emanating from the little being. Oddly, he was dressed in an elf-sized version of trews and tunic. Harry raised an eyebrow at his companion as the elf bowed to her with a sweep of his aged hand.

“My dear lady, I am thine to command.”

Now Harry was really confused as Hermione answered the elf.

“I thank thee, noble elf. Is all readiness made?”

“Aye, my lady. I will be here to guard and wish you well in your purpose.” He eyed Harry’s increasing predicament. “All purposes.”

The old elf bowed again with a straight face and vanished from sight. Harry turned to look at Hermione to see her blush returning full force.

“Hermione? What was that all about?”

“Um… he really likes Shakespearean-named people. Me in particular. He’s promised to watch over us and prevent interruptions. I think he likes to mentor us, with ‘us’ being his favorites at the castle.”

“But the centaurs…” He edged a look at a snickering Kateira. Hermione sighed.

“He also likes a certain ale the centaurs make. Benvolio gives them feedback on any new kind they make.”

“What?”

Hermione huffed.

“No time. We have to do this. Glasses off, Harry. We can’t have anything but the silver dagger and the pottery bowl in with us.”

“I can’t really see what I’m doing…”

She interrupted him, somewhat sharply but with a slightly noticeably bit of humor.

“You’ll have to use your hands to get anywhere, right? I’ll guide you.”

That shut him up right quick. He gave her his glasses and she kissed him on the nose before placing them on a small table. Hermione gave him a small earthenware bowl to carry into the circle and she took up a small silver dagger.

Since Harry could only see a blur in front of himself, topped by a mass of brown, it was a relief when she took his hand and lead him over the still-pulsing red circle to the exact center. She took the bowl from him.

“Kneel down, Harry. It doesn’t really matter in what direction. Keep your knees apart a good bit.”

Since one direction seemed to be as good as another, he sunk straight down and adjusted himself. The blur moved around a bit and he thought he heard Kateira mutter something about his eyes. Something about ‘if they looked this good in the dark.’ By now, he didn’t have any more blush left in him so he ignored it. There was a light clink as Hermione set the dagger down inside the bowl just to his right.

“Harry?”

As Hermione stepped closer to him, he got a good eyeful of her. He was quite appreciative, but managed to look up at the sound of her voice. He smiled at her as she knelt in front of him. There wasn’t any time to say anything as she laid a wet kiss on him.

“I trust you, Harry, with every bit of my heart and soul. I love you with the same every bit. I can’t do this without you and I can’t do it without telling you how I feel.”

He swallowed.

“I feel the same way. I think I was too thickheaded to know that until now, but I can’t tell you anything less than what you’ve said to me.”

Hermione’s face lit up, and she caressed his face tenderly.

“It’s time. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I’ll be here beside you.”

Hermione grinned.

“About that…”

Before he could say anything, she turned and plopped herself onto his lap. Her smaller feet tucked up under him and Harry gasped as he felt her body close every bit of distance. Hermione tugged his arms around her and nestled into them.

Harry was thinking that if she wanted to do this again, ritual or no ritual, he’d be a damn fool to refuse her.

Little Harry was thinking the same thing from his position.

From his place behind her, he heard her call out. Her voice rang throughout the wood.

“May Magic bless our purpose!”

Immediately, the ring burst into a pure white light.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The peace of the warded clearing was ripped asunder as the wooden door scraped open. Considering that it was exposed to the elements without any overhang protecting the threshold, hinges, or jambs – much less the door itself – it was surprising that the door didn’t put up much more of a fight. As it were, it took more force to get the door to swing open than it should have.

The clearing boasted wards to redirect the attention of certain people and maintain the vegetation to a clipped level. It didn’t matter to some degree, since the canopy of trees provided shade enough that the ground cover didn’t grow as much as the grass in the open. There wasn’t anything provided to maintain a certain temperature or keep rain away or anything like that.

So when storms came or snow or whatever disputes nature had against good order, the cabin took the brunt of it and it wasn’t terribly long before it showed. Magical measures kept the interior in perfectly suitable shape, but the exterior was disallowed similar means. This meant that the cabin’s walls fell into disrepair over time, as would anything without maintenance, but with the mild magical intervention it didn’t fall apart as quickly. To be fair, it looked shoddy.

The group of men that came quickly into the main room of the cabin didn’t care about details like that. They had a job to do and not a great deal of time to get it done in. Without much conversation, they broke into pairs and went through the contents stored inside and shared them out. There was enough for everyone and a few spares. The spares were left there, packed away carefully, while the empty boxes were vanished without much afterthought. After all, they served no purpose any longer and there really wasn’t any point in having empty boxes around to trip over.

Geffrey Thurstan stood at the battered door and waited for the others to finish their part of tonight’s plan. There was plenty enough to do and he, at least, was on a timetable. The others wasn’t quite as rushed as he happened to be, since he had things to do. It was the added fact that he wasn’t supposed to leave them in this cabin unattended while he fulfilled his part in his Master’s plans that irritated him.

“Get a move on! Some of us have things to do!”

The waspish growl motivated the others to hurry up. Thurstan wondered if maybe some heavy stinging hexes would speed things up, then remembered last week’s debacle. He had the cursed misfortune then to have one of the most stupid Death Eaters ever on a raid. The man drove him to distraction, if not to drink heavily. The house they’d visited for ‘a friendly chat’ with the inhabitants had hosted a less-than-friendly party, thanks to that fool. He groaned to himself as he remembered that debacle.

Thurstan had pre-briefed the group with him that night to get in quietly, get their business done, and get out. Simple as that. No tricks, nothing fancy. They had a job to do, and he had a pub to visit afterward that none of those yokels was going to with him. What they did after they completed their assignment was nothing to him.

Simple, right?

Of course fucking not. How could he have been so idiotic to think something like that.

The simpleton he had mentally dubbed Saphead for want of a better epithet. Thurstan had been sure something better would come along sooner or later. As it happened, it didn’t matter if the ‘something better’ came along later or not. After the briefing, Saphead had apparated out without any problems or splinchingwhich in itself surprised him. As soon as they got to the location, the idiot apparently decided that taking a leak in the nearby rose bush was a spiffing thing to do. The little girl whose bedroom window was over said rose bush was quite put out, as they were her favorites.

Thurstan could understand that, really. He had to objectively admit that they were quite lovely roses, especially when she threw her window open and started to ream Saphead a good one for messing up her work. It took all he had not to laugh when she must have decided to follow in the footsteps of her older sisters and disparage the size of his member. The comparison to a rotten Gherkin that obviously never got watered enough and was stunted beyond any repair in a ten-year-old’s outraged voice was what had him biting his tongue to keep from laughing. He wasn’t alone in that regard, since everyone else who came with him heard her indignant speech.

It attracted attention though and soon he wasn’t laughing anymore. Saphead had yanked her out of that window, kicked her hard enough to break her jaw and pissed all over her. The gurgling screams from her brought the rest of the house out, mad as hornets. Spells had been criss-crossing everywhere, lighting up the night. There had been two older daughters, visiting home from Hogwarts, and dancing around in barely-there nightgowns with blood in their eyes over the insult to their baby sister. Their wands had been spitting brutal curses.

The man of the house and his lady were even more upset by the unexpected guests. From the sight of them, they had been working on adding to the family. Saphead gawked at the wife’s nude form with a leer and apparently didn’t realize that she was headed his way at high speed. The woman tore his member off along with everything associated with it with a mighty yank of her hand, before roughly cauterizing the resulting laceration. The yodeling high-pitched scream from Saphead stopped the fight long enough to see what the enraged woman did next. Every man, including the husband, grimaced as she picked up the bloody organs, whipped them into the rosebush’s evil looking thorns and smashed the desolate-looking flesh between two of the jagged rocks the little girl had selected to line her rosebushes.

At that point, there was no ‘friendly chats’ to be had. One of the other Death Eaters dropped a portkey on Saphead’s moaning body and he disappeared, but not before the wife threw what was thenbetter considered organ paste on the injured man’s forehead. Thurstan had started to turn toward the house to continue his assignment, but found himself looking into a naked woman’s blazing blue eyes. He couldn’t miss the fact that her left hand was arched into talons and her right hand was holding a wand with a glowing tip pointed at his groin. The daughters didn’t look any more peaceful.

“Leave. Leave or I separate more pitiful excuses for bellends – starting with yours.”

The blood dripping from her hands punctuated her stark statements. He stepped back quickly, since he was the only one left standing. Portkeys activated around him as the others scattered around him managed to use them. The next day, he and Lord Voldemort discovered that five men had been found tied up and dismembered in various ways but left alive. Some lost fingers, some lost feet or noses or in one case, his left buttock. All had lost varying amounts of inches in ways they didn’t need to lose and would have to sit down to pee for the rest of their lives.

Apparently the females at that address used cutting and shriveling curses with no quick counters. They could tell what the husband did during the fight from the mere bruises, but the others’ reactions to the unexpected visit to their quiet home had been vicious.

Saphead had spent a week being punished.

Lord Voldemort took a page from some of the more medieval torture punishments from history and impaled him naked on a thick sharpenedbamboo stake about two feet longthrough his rectum. That stake had a couple of runes inscribed on them and then an _impervious_ spell cast on it. The runes had been charged by generously filling those in with Saphead’s blood to repeat a spell on his roughly bound body. The _wingardium levios_ _a_ spell was timed to suspend him, then drop him an inch every twelve hours for that week. Autonomous healing spells corrected the damage imperfectly every time it triggered and it took him a while to die, especially as the stake was also spelled to spin five hundred and forty degrees at random intervals no less than every hour and a half. More delayed healing spells drew out the agony.

Voldemort ignored the screams, although there had been many pale faces in the area where the man had been put on display. It had taken some fast talking to prevent himself from receiving the same treatment, but after a while the Dark Lord had decided that Saphead was the main cause of the assignment being thrown. Everyone received _Crucios_ for their troubles, but considered it a fair trade-off – all things considered. It had only taken a look at Saphead’s corpse to settle that.

So it was that Thurstan had things to do and this group wasn’t being accommodating with his needs. That had to change.

“Get a bloody move on before I go find that woman we met last week!”

Eyes widened and a fresh sense of urgency instilled itself. Thurstan despaired at what he had to work with now. He started going over his mental list of things to do, yet again. Tomorrow. His duty was for tomorrow and he had to refresh his memory on what to do. It had been years, after all.

Geffrey Thurstan told himself he didn’t want to find himself on that stake.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Luna licked the last of the pudding from the spoon and sighed happily. Pudding was a true gift, she was sure. She heard that there was something called a banana pudding taco which sounded odd, even to her. However since it had ‘pudding’ in the name, it couldn’t be all that bad. She was quite sure of that, except for the part where she actually had one to test. That would be her next mission after she finished straightening Harry and Hermione out and a personal side project.

Well, maybe one of those wasn’t a large enough sample size for the research she intended to create. It stood to reason that she would need to obtain several of these ‘banana pudding tacos’ for suitable analysis. Say, twenty or so just for purposes of double-blind testing. A sample size of one was still a sample, right? If Neville asked nicely, she might share with him. He had to ask nicely, though.

“Hey, Luna, did you leave any pudding for the rest of us?”

She looked up to see Ginny grinning at her. It seemed it was the appointed time for her visit to the Ravenclaw table for the evening meal. Her old friend stopped by every so often, usually to gossip about boys. Luna smiled and waved her hand at an empty spot.

“Yes, I did. In fact, maybe I should offer Neville some pudding. He looks like he could lick it up easily.”

Ginny bit her knuckle to keep from laughing. Her face got red. Since she wasn’t saying anything, Luna continued.

“What flavor would suit him? Maybe banana pudding. Or maybe chocolate! Chocolate is always a good choice.”

“With strawberries, Luna?” Ginny managed to choke that out. The others at the table rolled their eyes and looked at each other.

Luna considered that.

“Good choice! Neville could use some help. Excuse me.”

She gathered up a large bowl of chocolate pudding and a similar bowl of strawberries appeared next to her. The little blonde smiled.

“Thank you,” she said to thin air and set off to the Gryffindor table.

There was silence at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny looked around at the others looking at her.

“What was that all about?”

One of the Ravenclaws turned a page in her textbook as she munched on a grilled cheese sandwich.

“You don’t know, I take it?”

“Know what?”

There were smirks around the table.

“Little Luna’s sworn enemies are everyone in proposed harems with their sights on her friends Potter and Longbottom.”

“What? Harems?”

Ginny was a bit uneasy.

“Yep. She made plans to head off the ones gunning for Potter, and there’s a reason we don’t play poker against her anymore.”

“Poker?” Ginny was getting more confused. What did this poker have to do with harems? Grins bloomed up and down the table.

“Just so. Don’t plan on a full house being anywhere helpful against whatever Luna’s got in her hand.”

“What is a full house?”

“Oh, dear. We’ll just have to teach you,” the Claw sniggered at her. Matching grins ran up and down the table. Ginny felt like she was still missing something here.

“Uh, okay… but what does that have to do with Neville and what help is he needing?”

“Oh, possibly a Pepper-up Potion or two, I’d say. Maybe three. He might be going to need that sooner or later. Luna is very thorough in her studies, you know. Whenever she sinks her teeth into something juicy, she doesn’t let go no matter how hard it is. There’s a grizzly bear hiding in Longbottom and he might be able to keep up.”

They conferred with each other and nodded solemnly.

“What? Grizzly bear? _Neville?”_

Several of the girls looked at her over their meal with pity in their eyes.

“Neville Longbottom has definitely been growing up, if you haven’t noticed. He’s still the cute and cuddly teddy bear he’s always been and probably will always be, but look deep in his eyes some time and you’ll see. There’s a grizzly waiting to come out at the right moment. Have you seen his hands lately? Whoooo.”

More nods came along the table at this pronouncement, accompanied with some smiles. Most of the boys rolled their eyes as some of the girls mimed fanning themselves.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed at them, mentions of harems forgotten. They all looked back at her quite innocently which she knew was a lie. The Gryffindor knew that they had to be running some kind of game on her, but what it was she couldn’t tell. If she asked Luna, she’d end up much more confused.

Neville? Grizzly bears?

What?

She excused herself and went back to the Gryffindor table. They watched her go with a sigh of relief.

“Well, that’s part of our debt to Luna paid.”

“A small part. I _told_ you not to make that bet, but _noooooo_.”

“I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Sure, you’re not. All she has to do is blink those big silver eyes at you the way she does and you’re done.”

“Oh, shut up.”

A few of the girls giggled at the seventh-year’s abashed expression. One continued on, teasing him. Entertainment was where one found it, after all.

“Yeah, Tommy, you know you would. Luna’s got you and many others wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

“All right, all right. Quit rubbing it in.”

“Why? It’s too fun watching you blunder. You know what’s even funnier about it?”

He rubbed his face with both hands and sighed before speaking. Tommy knew he should have kept his mouth shut. It took a few minutes before he decided to answer, peeking out from between his fingers. The clink of silverware on plates was heard while they waited.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What?”

“If any of those people we’ve been talking about who find themselves wrapped about her little finger decide that they want to get mad about it and they do something to her to try to get unwrapped, all she has to do is tell Potter about it.”

A stare was directed to the speaker of this offhand proclamation.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Considering that it sure looks like she’s setting her sights on Neville Longbottom now, Potter would feel honor-bound to tell him about whatever it was. Remember that old saying? ‘Where a Potter goes, a Longbottom follows.’ Imagine what the two of them would be like to anyone who hurts their little moonbeam. Wonder what what the basilisk slayer and the grizzly bear of venomous plants could do together?”

His face paled.

“That’s not funny at all.”

“Oh, no, that actually is the funny part if you think about it. What’s scary is if those two got up the nerve to tell Hermione first before setting out on their avenging mission.”

Shivers ran up and down the table.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“Hello, Neville Longbottom.”

The dreamy voice ghosted into the sandy-haired boy’s awareness as he finished tending a newtentacula graft. This one was crossed with bamboo to create a faster-growing version and seemed to be doing better than he’d expected. Professor Sprout was intrigued with his work, anyway.He looked up over the top of the plant to see a serene smile coming his way from the doorway. It was hard to see more than that, since the leaves of the other plants blocked his sight.Neville set the sharp clippers down and picked up a glass of water before shifting around a bit and looking to see who had come into the greenhouse. He smiled when he saw the little blonde more clearly.

“Luna? What brings you here? And would you like a glass of water? It sometimes get a bit dusty in here.”

He took a large sip. It was indeed a bit dusty in the greenhouse.

“No, thank you, Neville. I’ve come to see if you wanted to go to bed with me tonight.”

The tentacula rustled from the force of the expelled water. It shivered as the droplets cascaded down. Neville coughed up the rest. Luna smiled at his reaction. It took a few minutes for him to settle down, while Luna took the now-forgotten glass out of his hand and guided him to a nearby bench.

“Well? What do you think?” Her voice was still tranquil, but there was a small note of uncertainty that he couldn’t miss.

“Uh… wow, Luna… I’m, well… I’m surprised and don’t know what to say.”

Luna’s face fell. The serenity in her expression drooped and Neville felt like a cad for saying that.

“So, no?”

Her voice trembled a bit. Luna looked so disappointed with the pout she gave him that Neville felt he had to say something else. He hoped that it was the right thing.

“Let’s… let’s talk about it before we make any decisions about something like that. Let me get cleaned up and we can take a walk or something.”

He looked down at his hands, which for some reason had started trembling. Neville didn’t look up in time to see her face brighten, but he heard Luna’s voice do that.

“Okay!” she chirped. She sat back on the bench. It looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Neville stared at her, feeling like he was eight or ten paces behind in a foot race he didn’t know he had been running in the first place.

He excused himself and washed his hands after brushing the potting soil off his robes. When he returned, Neville offered his arm to Luna to be a gentleman. She stood and took it with a huge smile. They headed out to the Black Lake, looking for a suitable place to stop. A corner of his mind remarked that both Harry and Hermione seemed to like that too, but he wasn’t sure if they went there together. Another corner of his mind told him to shut up about the other two and pay attention to Luna.

It wasn’t long before a rather crooked stone bench presented itself for use. Neville noticed that Luna looked at it askance but didn’t say anything. He wondered about the small quirk of her lips but decided that it was something he didn’t want to know. This was Luna, after all, and he knew better than to get on her bad side.

It wouldn’t be as vicious as Hermione could get, with the multitude of spells the brown-haired girl had stored up but somehow Neville knew that Luna would have something esoteric in store for him if there was something he did that she didn’t like. He wasn’t too sure how he knew that, but there it was. Whatever it would be, he was sure that it would be either embarrassing, painful or both. Likely both.

He turned to look at huge silvery-grey eyes looking up at him. Neville wasn’t sure if he remembered those eyes being quite that big before. He cleared his throat, a little uneasy.

“So what’s on your mind, Luna?”

She didn’t reply right away, staring up at him. He felt like he was being weighed and didn’t know if he was found wanting or not. There was really only one thing he could think to do, so he did it. He stood still, and returned the gaze.

After an eternity, she smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

Neville relaxed inside, with a solid sense of relief coursing through his body. He must have passed some kind of test, although with Luna that could have been anything. He waited to see what she would say next. Frankly, Neville knew that could be anything.

“Do you like to dance, Neville Longbottom?”

Somehow, he was not expecting that question, but he could answer that without a problem.

 _Gryffindors charge forward,_ he thought.

He took her hand and brushed a light kiss over the knuckles.

“Luna Lovegood, may I have this dance?”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Professor Flitwick tapped at the office door in front of him. When he heard the Scottish-tinged voice that bade him to enter, he opened the door and strode in.

“You called, Minerva?”

The Deputy Headmistress grinned at him and pointed to a bottle. He picked it up and read the label.

“Huh. ‘Highland Park 18.’ You’re celebrating something with Muggle spirits. What is it?”

“Less talking, more filling. Glasses are over there.”

He raised an eyebrow, but grinned as he filled a pair of glasses. Flitwick set down the two glasses, one in front of his old friend. They clinked glasses together and threw back the whisky.

“So spill. What are we celebrating?”

“Look at this.”

She pushed a parchment over to him. It had some of the most beautiful calligraphy that he’d ever seen.The short professor looked at it for a moment to read the contents, then started giggling. McGonagall watched as he set the glass down and started clutching his side while practically howling.

“Oh! Oh, this is too much! Are you telling me that Firenze wants to get in on the betting for a summer wedding between two of your Gryffindors?”

“Considering what he says he left his daughter to observe, it seems that way. He hasn’t gotten any reports back, but something must have happened. Miss Granger doesn’t make many mistakes.”

“Do you know what she was trying to do?”

“No, and that does concern me. As intelligent as she is, she is still a student here.”

Flitwick agreed.

“True, but this is Miss Granger. I wouldn’t put it past her to become one of the youngest teachers ever here, if that’s what she wanted to do.”

McGonagall snorted.

“It’s not like she wouldn’t have the experience correcting a student’s work, considering what she’s had to do with Misters Potter and Weasley.”

“That’s no lie. Keeping up with those two is an adventure in itself.”

“Although I do believe Mr. Potter has the makings of a fine teacher himself. What do you think?”

“Oh, aye. I’ve seen how he’ll spend time with the younger years. It doesn’t seem to matter what House they’re in either. If they ask for help, he’ll give it.”

McGonagall sat back with a small smile on her face.

“He’s not James, at least in Transfiguration. Still, don’t you look at Harry and see some of the prankster in him?”

Flitwick grinned. He started rubbing his hands together in remembrance.

“Definitely! You do know whose pranks back then hit the hardest, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Lily.”

“Exactly! No one would have expected it!”

“And no one knew it was her until months had passed. By then, the boys had done something or another to get everyone’s attention.”

Flitwick paused for a moment, considering something.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say keep an eye on Miss Granger for the same reason.”

“Hmm. There might be something to that, but I’d say she’s more direct action instead of indirect. If some of the stories about the arguments she has with young Mister Weasley are anything to go by, the fire she shows would indicate that.”

“True. She’s going to knock him out one day.”

McGonagall sighed.

“She probably already has and he’s too chagrined to say anything about it.”

Flitwick snickered.

“He wouldn’t have to! Miss Weasley would spread the word.”

“This is assuming she didn’t help Miss Granger in the first place. He gets on her nerves more than Fred and George and that’s saying something.”

“True, but something tells me that no help would be needed.”

“No, not if rumors about Mister Malfoy are correct.”

“Oh?”

“It seems Miss Granger has quite a strong right hook.”

Professor Flitwick chuckled, but managed to school his face into a stern visage.

“Oh, this is not something that should be encouraged. Fighting ruins the atmosphere and we’re supposed to be instructing. The older students should be setting examples and serving as role models for the lower years. It says so in the student handbook.”

McGonagall rolled her eyes and refilled their glasses.

“Oh, I imagine she ‘instructed’ him quite well, Filius. Between you and me, I hope he doesn’t need remedial lessons.”

“Oh, yes. Me too, but we both know the answer to that.”

A sigh.

“Indeed.”

There was a moment of silence between them as the whisky warmed their insides.

“Minerva, what could they have been doing out there?”

“There is truly no telling, but whatever it was… well, did you feel something a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, before I knocked on your door. It felt like a pull on my magic. A very slight pull, like a tickle or something.”

“I felt the same. It didn’t feel malicious or anything like that, and I have to wonder if it had anything to do with whatever they’re doing out there?”

“There’s no telling. I hope there won’t be any little Potters running around soon, though.”

“While that would be precious, and Mr. Potter does need to rebuilt the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, I have to agree with you.”

“Now that’s going to be a job in itself.”

“Quite true, but hopefully he finishes school first before he starts on that particular job.”

“So, are we taking Firenze’s bets?”

“Not this summer, but I’ll bet graduation day he proposes. Twenty galleons.”

“I say the day before. Do we mention it to Firenze?”

“Of course. It’s his idea, if changed a bit. He’ll probably say something about Venus in transit or some such before he ponies up the Galleons.”

They shook on it, talked for a while on other matters in the school, then Flitwick left. He was still chuckling about the centaur’s report.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Harry’s eyes felt shredded from the burst of light, as though he had been caught far too close to a camera’s flash and he groaned from the pain. It badly disoriented him and his first reaction was to bring his hands up to rub his eyes. He only remembered about Hermione’s presence right in front of him when she squeaked. His hands were full of something soft and warm that most certainly was not his aching eyeballs and it didn’t take long for him to realize what the something was.

As he quickly jerked his hands down, Harry noted that there was a corner of his mind shouting at him. It seemed to be quite unhappy that the hands had moved, but he did his best to ignore that part. After a moment, he heard her voice. It sounded almost… disappointed?

“Harry, we’re here to get what Magic determines you need and that’s your parents. For that, I can handle your roaming hands.”

“How do you know that Magic determines that?” He did his best to ignore the bit about roaming hands. Harry managed that, but it was with quite a bit of difficulty that he did.

She was quiet, then, “I don’t.”

That didn’t reassure him but her movements in his lap as she bent forward to retrieve the bowl and dagger was a huge distraction. Harry wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he heard a sharp breath gusting from her in a little moan and considering how things were rubbing together at the moment he couldn’t blame her.

Little Harry was was definitely all in for whatever was going on here, despite being late to the party and both of them were quite aware of that fact. Hermione tried her best to ignore this fact and concentrate on the ritual but it was not easy. The thoughts of what she wanted to do kept interfering.

“Harry, I need your DNA to do this. Blood is best, saliva next best.”

Neither mentioned the next best, and neither thought about whether it was really first, second or third best. This was why Hermione was trying to remain as still as possible. While she was quite enjoying the closeness with Harry, she knew he was embarrassed. The muffled snickers she could hear from Kateira, standing outside the circle, didn’t help. What she could feel herself in contact with didn’t help either. No, not at all. Her mind kept wandering off topic.

Harry thought about what she said. He took the bowl and worked up as much saliva as he could. That wasn’t easy as his mouth was dry but he managed. He spat in the bowl and glanced at the dagger before she could take it back. Deciding to play belt and braces, he cut his left hand to drip some of his blood in the bowl. The shimmer of the circle’s magical light made each drop sparkle. How red blood sparkled he didn’t know, but it did. For some reason, the sparkling reminded him of Cedric and he didn’t know why.

Hermione agreed with his decision, figuring that it couldn’t hurt, and took back the bowl. She had to lean forward again, just a bit, to put the dagger down. Harry gasped behind her and she trembled at the sensations she was feeling. It took a moment with her eyes closed before she could concentrate. She held up the bowl and touched the runes on the rim. They lit up, drawing magic from the ambient flow from Hogwarts’ ley-lines.

“We call on Magic to open Qanat’s Tear! Judge what is needed for our purpose. We have a prophesied quest to end evil and we require help and support!”

Well, Harry did and not her, but if anyone (meaning Harry) thought she was going to let him do it by himself, they (meaning Harry) had another think coming. Her mind was quite made up, thank you. She had stood at his side for too long now to let him go this way all alone. Hermione’s jaw was set as these thoughts ran through her head.

Behind her, Harry reached up to cover her hands with his as the circle’s rune stones started humming. She shivered at the feel of his Quidditch-calloused fingers and palms against hers. The bowl itself lit up, but wasn’t quite as steady as the rim’s runes, now glowing white. They could see that something wasn’t working. It seemed to both of them that the bowl itself was struggling to do whatever it was supposed to do. Hermione’s mind raced, trying to figure the permutations needed as fast as she could even as Magic pulled on both of them. She could feel their magics searching each other out and binding together.

Together.

There was something about that word that called out to her and she focused on it. What did they need together? What did they need to combine to do this. She blushed deeply at one thought. Maybe later for that one. Hermione looked at the bowl, now cradled in all four hands and what it held.

Her eyes widened. Of course.

She leaned back to nestle against Harry. This wasn’t needed, of course, but she took the opportunity. She was feeling a little cold and he was the best source of heat she knew. Hermione kissed his jaw, feeling it clench as she shifted her legs and wiggled herself around to get comfortable.

Oops. She had actually forgotten what was also there, lost in her thoughts. It came back to her right away, as she felt herself settle closer. The young witch couldn’t decide if her face or her thighs were hotter, frankly. Hermione couldn’t let that distract her right now, although she very much wanted to be distracted. She put that as far out of her mind as she could and whispered to Harry.

“Harry, hold the bowl as still as you can for me?”

His head jerked and his elbows pressed in on her for a moment to caress her as best he could, so she took that as an acknowledgment that he’d heard. Hermi0ne eased her hands out from under his and left the bowl suspended in his grip.

She needed the dagger, which was discarded before them. Carefully, she felt around in front and realized that it was a bit further up than she thought. Harry had dropped it earlier without thinking that it might be needed again. Hermione shook her head and smiled to herself. Poor Harry. There was only one way she was going to reach that dagger, since her arms weren’t as long as his.

Hermione leaned forward again, pushing herself against him and moaning in pleasure at the feeling even as her fingers found the dagger. She stayed there for a moment longer than necessary and noticed that Harry’s arms was trembling. She was doing some of that herself, deep within. Hermione could feel her arousal warring with the need to complete this ritual.

When she leaned back with the dagger in her hands, it was evident to both of them how smoothly Little Harry was able to move with her. Oh, there was definitely going to be a hard discussion between them later. Hermione wasn’t aware that Harry could hear every vocalization she gave and feel every tremble and shiver. For him, it was already a hard discussion. He simply couldn’t help it and he didn’t want to say something. Harry was enjoying the noises she made far too much. She was too, honestly.

She cut her hand, exactly as Harry had done earlier, and dripped her blood into the bowl. Hermione wormed her hands back under his and absently noted that where their blood mixed, it glowed. She didn’t know why and it bugged the part of her mind keeping tabs on the ritual. Since it did, that mean another trip to the library after this. Well, that could happen after her little discussion with Harry.

The humming of the rune stones became stronger the moment her blood splashed in, and it took her a moment to remember the saliva. She bent forward again to spit in the bowl, ignoring Harry’s gust of breath. She didn’t realize that the faint moan he released was exactly like hers and for his part, he didn’t realize that he’d made the noise in question.

The rune stones hummed louder and the power now circulating steadied the glow emanating from the circle. It seemed to her that the rune stones had a resonance with the bowl, considering the sound coming from all directions. The bowl itself gleamed now, and had either Harry or Hermione looked at the dagger where she’d dropped it they would have seen that it was alight, too. The power now circulating around the circle made their hair want to stand on end.

There was a wind picking up now and from everywhere and nowhere a voice spoke. It was deep and rolling, with the sound of thunder announcing the coming of rain. Equal shades of invitation and threat flowed through the syllables.

“Who acts to summon Magic?”

Hermione gulped, with Harry right behind her. She spoke up and mentally cursed the tremors in her voice.

“We do, uh… Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.”

The voice was silent for a moment and both could feel that somehow they were being searched thoroughly. Their minds tickled and it felt like both fire and ice was trickling through their heads, then their bodies. The voice went on, this time with suspicion and musing. This dichotomy confused them more.

“What is your purpose for being here, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter?”

Well, if ever there was a purpose made for Gryffindor courage to charge ahead, this was it. Hermione snuggled back in Harry’s arms and drew comfort and strength from them. She spoke up, still not knowing where exactly to address Magic but speaking anyway.

“My partner here is precious to me and he needs people that he doesn’t have to help and support him in his time of need and questing. I would see that he gets them.” The squeeze of his arms helped her contain the worse of her babbling.

“No matter the cost?” The voice was not quite menacing, but not quite auspicious, either. It seemed probing, for want of a better word. There was a distinct sense of dismissal, as well. There really was no way to use tone to figure out how to respond to Magic.

Fire lit in Hermione’s eyes as she sensed that. The bowl they both still held, their bloodied hands, and the dagger shone now to match the tempestuous eyes. She straightened up abruptly, ignoring Harry’s hiss behind her and the pain in her left thigh. He held her and the bowl steady to keep all of them from tipping over.

“No matter the cost! I stand beside him as I’ve always done and always will! He is more important to me than myself and whatever he needs I will see that he gets it! I swear it!”

The presence behind the voice seemed impressed at her rant. Harry kissed the side of her neck, which calmed her down a bit and she settled back.

“And you, Harry Potter?”

Hermione was still a bit stiff in his arms with both of them still holding the bowl and he could feel her anger at the voice as well, but he sat up as straight as he could without dumping her off his lap and spoke up.

“Destiny stands in my path. My path is empty without her, and without her, so is my life.”

Hermione sighed at that. She started to say something, but he continued. The tone of his voice dropped almost to the level he would do just before he lost his temper.

“I fight, not just for myself but for her and for others. The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing, it’s said, and I want to be remember as a good man while this destiny with Voldemort stands in my path. I am not going to stand by and do nothing, but I need help. I _know_ I can’t do it alone. I am so grateful for Hermione’s help, but even we together need help. That’s why we’re here.”

The voice seemed to be considering. Hermione spoke, drawing strength from Harry as her arms started shaking more. Her jaw jutted out as she spoke and had she looked at Harry, she would have seen him do the same thing.

“I came with the purpose of defiance. Defiance of evil-doing, defiance of the malevolence of others, defiance even of death for those taken too soon! I came to beseech Magic to return to us James and Lily Potter!”

“Intriguing quest, young witch. And you, young wizard?” The voice was curious. For the first time, the tone matched what was being said.

She could hear Harry’s voice change. The timbre got even deeper, more insistent and deadly.

“I stand with Hermione, always and in all ways. We hold to our purpose. In the battle against evil, we hold the line.”

Hermione chanced a glance back at him and saw the same fire in his eyes as she was sure was in hers, plus a rock-ribbed certainty that lined his clenched jaw. She turned back when she felt the bowl warm up in their hands. They could see that tendrils of smoke had started to rise from the center.

In front of them, they could see that the area within the circle’s confines had solidified somewhat into a form that could have been anything from a broad shouldered warrior with a sword to a war horse or even a charger under armor. The forms flickered from those to others too much to be able to decide which one it was. Whatever it was, they could tell that this being was judging them by their words and actions.

They gulped, waiting to see what would happen. Neither dropped their eyes and both stared defiantly and resolutely.

“Indeed, young ones! You speak true!” The voice seemed pleased this time. “Be aware, no matter what happens this night, both of you will have a long, hard path to go. Parts will be easier than others, parts will be bloody. This cannot be avoided.”

They nodded, not trusting their voices to answer as the winds whipped up even higher. The voice continued, ignoring the winds.

“This one makes you a fine mate, young Potter. Treat her well and you will go far. She is a true lioness to your lion. You each have destinies far beyond this evil in your path, and it is up to both of you to meet them with the courage and conviction you have shown here. One must have the other to truly meet your destinies. Never forget that. I would see you joined in more ways than in this quest as you have that affinity with each other.”

Again they agreed silently, not knowing how else to respond. The lights dimmed a bit as the voice spoke on.

“But, it is not in the normal course of events to reclaim those that Death has taken for himself.”

Harry’s heart sank and Hermione’s face paled. Was all this for nothing? Neither was given a chance to speak before the voice spoke again. It seemed to be musing about something.

“However… the two of whom you speak are in states that Death cannot make use of or fully claim, due to the interference of the one known as Thomas Marvolo Riddle, or as some among you call him – Lord Voldemort.”

Harry’s face hardened again and his eyes sparked at the mention of his nemesis. With Hermione as close to him as she was then, she could feel his magic leaking out of his body. It sent thrills through her as she felt her own magic reaching for it again. The lights in the circle blazed up in response.

“Calmly, young ones. Calmly! It does no good to squander your gift of Magic in anger.” It waited for a moment as they calmed down. “As you are aware, Life has a partner in Death. Without that partnership, there would be chaos greater than that which is required for the workings of Time, Fate, and Destiny. Those like Riddle who meddle in the business overseen by Death for their own purposes, like any usurpers, create imbalances that must be corrected. One such imbalance, and perhaps another, can be corrected tonight. I demand your answer, spoken true. Do you stand against Voldemort?”

The answer was quicker than thought from both of them.

“Yes.”

“Then behold.”

The bowl grew hotter until a shrieking Hermione dropped it. Harry batted it away to keep it from burning her lap and they watched it tumble a couple of yards away. It burst into flames rolling through every color they’d ever thought of and some they had no idea about until it started to melt.

“Hermione?” His voice was tense. He held her close to him, shielding her as best he could in the position they remained.

“I don’t know either, Harry. Hope for the best. We can’t leave the circle.”

“I know. Hermione – I love you. Know that now. I’d kiss you if I could move.”

Her heart filled to bursting, and the rune stones sang a pure song in response. The edges of the circle took on new colors, the outside rim a pure gold and the inside a silver that seemed to tumble into itself without end.

“I love you too, Harry. Oh, how I love you!” She could move a little more than he could and kissed him hard and long.

It appeared the presence they had been conversing with was waiting for that declaration to each other. There was a deep, joyful, rolling laugh again from everywhere and nowhere and in this laugh was contained power, battle, and victory. Immediately the flaming bowl began to morph into a large oval opening of some sort, easily nine feet high and with murky depths within. They could see that there was something inside, some sense of depth, but what they did not know. Harry and Hermione clutched each other and stared at the portal without a clue what it was there for. After everything that happened so far they had no thoughts about their mutual state of undress.

Hermione did notice that the inner edge of the circle was rimmed in silver, while the runes and outer edge had covered themselves in gold. She wondered what that was about, since the whole thing hadn’t been like that before they started. At Harry’s gasp, she looked up to see that there was something approaching with indefinite lines. As they watched, whatever it was became crisper inside the portal’s space and grew larger. The voice returned, satisfaction very evident.

“Use this gift well, young ones. Learn from it and make Magic proud. This is your charge.”

There was no time to move anywhere. They heard a muffled pair of _thump_ _s_ from two large objects appearing to either side of them as theysailed through the portal and fell to the ground. The golden outer band merged with the silver inner band in a bright combination of pure light before fading away. To Hermione, it seemed to her that it seemed somehow reluctant to go, but there wasn’t anything else that it could have done. It was odd to her but she felt like Magic must havedecided that it had done its bit and was retreating for a well-deserved rest. From the look on Harry’s face, he had to agree.

Now that the ritual’s shifting light show had faded, they were able to see what came through the portal. Both were stunned to see the sleeping bodies of James and Lily Potter. Harry and Hermione gasped. It had worked. Hermione burrowed deeper into Harry’s arm as a few tears streaked down her face.

A moment later, a very amused voice broke into their shared reverie. They jumped and Hermione squeaked with a blush. Harry moaned as her weight came back down on his lap.

“Well, you two, when’s the wedding? I could tell Harry there was _quite_ interested. Your stallion was very ready for stud, Hermione. And what a stud he is, too!”

Harry was more red than he thought he’d ever been in his life. Hermione’s answer didn’t help.

“I noticed! Believe me, I noticed!”

She wiggled on his lap some more before getting up slowly and giving him his glasses. Her legs felt shaky, and the ritual-induced trembles in her body focused Harry’s attention elsewhere. Hermione traded smirks with Kateira and looked down before snapping her fingers in front of Harry’s face.

“Hey, Harry. My eyes are up here.”

He groaned and scrambled to his feet. Hermione’s gaze wandered a bit to a rather noticeable portion of Harry. His voice was dry as he spoke.

“Hey, Hermione. _My eyes_ are up here, not down there.”

She blushed. They heard laughter outside the circle from a wheezing centauride. They glanced out at Kateira to see her holding her human-half ribs.

“And my eyes are all over! Whoooo! What a sight!”

Hermione felt a bit of envy since Kateira wasn’t hiding anything of hers at the moment. Thankfully Harry was leaning over the other two and didn’t see the display. It was definitely James and Lily. They looked just like his favorite picture. Their eyes were closed, but he could see them breathing. The outfits they wore were out-of-date and Harry absently wondered if that was what they were wearing that night in 1981.

“Um, Harry?”

He turned toward Hermione and Kateira, and his eyes went a little unfocused. Hermione had her fists on her hips and Kateira was being quite obvious while she was putting her hair up in a bun.

“Harrrrrrry. Are you paying attention?”

He jerked his eyes up to her eyes and swallowed. It took him a moment while Kateira snickered at him. Harry thought to himself that Kateira should never meet Tonks. There would be no mercy for anyone within sight.

“Um...yes, Hermione.” Harry hoped Hermione missed the squeak in his voice, but from the twist of her lips it was a hope in vain.

“We really should get dressed before they wake up. Or _do_ you want to introduce me to your parents stark naked?”

Kateira guffawed, “Never get a second change to make that first impression, you know, and you made quite an impression on me!”

She waved a hand at Harry, dropping down. Harry facepalmed at Hermione’s snickers.

There was a _pop_ and Benvolio stood there. He rolled his eyes and mumbled at the grass stains and other mess on their discarded clothes. The old elf snapped his fingers. Suddenly, they had loose fitting white robes on. The old elf decided not to bother the clothing James and Lily had been wearing when they came out of the portal, apparently deeming it good enough for his purposes. Harry felt the sleeve and wondered if he could get more like this but in green. Hermione walked over and hugged the little elf. The centauride pouted dramatically and Harry shook his head at her antics. He wasn’t going to hug her and embarrass himself, so he turned to look at the two prone forms again.

“Thank you, Benvolio. This is wonderful and helps Harry, too.”

“Indeed, young miss. He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees.”

Hermione paused. The elf’s wry grin could have meant anything. Before she could comment about the reference Benvolio had disappeared with the dirty clothes. Putting the old elf’s quotation out of her mind, she looked around to see Harry standing frozen.

“Harry?”

He was standing there saying nothing, staring at James and Lily.

“Harry, are you okay?”

“Hermione… I don’t know what to do. I don’t have a clue what to do or how to feel.”

He didn’t respond after that and she wasn’t sure what to do since she was still feeling shocked herself. Kateira motioned to Harry and mimed a hug. That was a good idea and she tugged him to her. Tears started running down his face as he shook and she held him closer. Hermione was concentrating hard enough on him that she didn’t notice the centauride carefully step closer and hug both of them to her chest. By then, Hermione had joined Harry in sobbing. Harry didn’t notice the presence of either, for a long while. They stood there for a while, releasing pent-up emotion.

Soon, the storm was past. Harry calmed down, feeling the pair of arms around him. It took him a moment to realize what his face was smooshed up against, with Hermione’s head under his chin. A centauride nipple was pressed into the corner of his mouth with the other right in front of his nose, and while that presented all kinds of thoughts into his brain, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

He moved a bit and the nipples were dragged across his lips as Kateira delicately moved around to avoid stepping on either James or Lily. Harry didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, but knew that he wasn’t going to mention it to Hermione. Not if he wanted to live.

Hermione looked up as Harry released her. The centauride tugged them out from the circle and turned them to face her before kissing both of them on the forehead.

“It looks like you got something out of this. I’ll remain until we know if you can wake them, then I’ll go to make my report. You have my support. Once I mention what Magic declared regarding both of you, I daresay that you will have the support of the Centaurs.”

“Even Bane?”

“Even Grumpy himself.”

Harry smiled. He turned to see to his parents. Taking their pulses was about all he knew to do, since he didn’t really know magical first aid. Maybe that would be something to talk to Madam Pomfrey about.

“Thank you, Kateira,” he said. “For everything.”

Hermione smirked up at the other female and spoke softly, knowing Harry could still hear them in the clearing’s now-quiet setting.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice what you did with your boobs. A stallion he may be…”

“...but he’s your stallion,” Kateira smirked in return. “We know who he’s linked to, and if he can resist my quite ample womanly charms,” and here she jiggled without a bit of shame while Hermione rolled her eyes, “we can both relax and not worry about the bloodsuckers in the castle.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow.

“ _You_ not worry? As much as you’ve been flirting?”

Kateira grinned.

“Okay, I admit I got a nice thrill with that last bit, but Harry’s not my type. While he might be a stallion, he’s not quite stallion enough for me.”

There came a voice from a little way away.

“ _Oi!_ I am right here and I don’t know whether to be offended or not!”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Harry, but Hermione is your mare and nobody else. We all know it,” Kateira chortled.

“Um, well, that’s true. I can’t deny that. I don’t want to deny it, either.”

Hermione’s eyes softened.

“Good answer.”

Harry breathed a subtle sigh of relief and motioned to his parents. Their color was nice and even, but still unconscious.

“Now, how do we wake them up?”

Kateira snorted.

“Well, how do you wizards and witches wake up someone who’s been stunned?”

Hermione paused, blushing at the memory of a somewhat similar question.

“Couldn’t hurt. Harry, move.”

He scrambled out of the way and tripped over the edge of a rune stone. He watched from his prone position, rubbing a sore knee, as Hermione cast a _renervate_ at the sleeping pair. The effects were immediate. Lily opened her eyes and struggled to sit up as she took in a deep, gasping breath. Harry jumped to his feet, rushing over to help her.

“Take it easy, mum.”

She turned and looked into his eyes, eyes that he knew was just like hers. He could see the resemblance for himself and he was very surprised to see just how close those eyes looked to what he saw in the mirror every morning.

Lily took a sharp breath. Her hand came up to touch his cheek. A few tears trickled down to meet her fingertips.

“Harry? My baby?”

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Somewhere on the grounds, a Snowy owl took to the skies. She flew several aerial acrobatics and screeched her song in sheer joy as her familiar magic registered a welcome change. Other owls in the Owlery watched in befuddlement and amazement as she left a slight golden glow in her wake. Gleamtalon glanced up from his work and saw what all the others saw. A thin owlish smile rippled the feathers on his head as he turned back to his work.

“It’s about time, lass. Make the most of it,” he murmured.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

In the castle, a slightly pudgy orange blur streaked around the castle floors and walls, yowling his celebration as his familiar magic registered a welcome change. The chaosupset the gossiping portraits, tripped Professor Snape and made students drop their book bags. Ghosts saw the mildly silver glow foll0wing the pandemonium left behind and wondered mightily. Professor McGonagall stepped to the side to watch the blur zip past on the way to the open doors and her Animagus senses reported to her what others couldn’t see. A thin smile creased her face and a sigh escaped her as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“It’s about time, lad. Make the most of it,” she murmured.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Within the deepest parts of the castle, a slight rumble announced the celebratory reaction of the magic of Hogwarts herself. Students and teachers looked at each other without any idea what had caused the event with some consternation, since it wasn’t at all common for imposing stone castles to rumble. In the Headmaster’s office, currently empty, the Sorting Hat woke up. It jerked around on its perch, taking in the magical atmosphere. The ripped seam took on the distinct appearance of a gruff smile after the rest of the Hat’s felt body appeared to blink in confusion.

“About damn time. I was getting bored waiting. Make the most of it, you two.”

So saying, the Hat went back to sleep.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

At several departments in the Ministry of Magic, but especially one involving the dreary work of census taking, there were several flashes of magic denoting new events. One of the newer clerks was startled into spilling the entire contents of his mug of some quite good coffee (for once) all over his new tie and robes. This happened when one of the more powerful flashes resolved into a heavy box thumping onto his desk accompanied by a rather merry chord played by an unseen harp or something. This event hadn’t been covered in his training and it had become his experience that such events made for days that sucked. His frustration showed in his comment over the ruined clothes and spilled drink.

“Oh, _now_ what?”

His coworker chuckled.

“Best not to ask that question, Billy. You might get more than you want in return. Looks like you have something interesting that Magic chose you to deal with it. Make the most of it.”

The young man gaped at him before grimacing in resignation.

“I’m going to need more of that coffee.”

Hoisting his newly-filled mug to his lips for a long sip, Billy’s coworker chuckled again.

“Sorry, lad, I just got the last of it. I’m making the most of it too, when you’re not looking. It’s pretty damn good, too.”

“Dammit!”


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Geffrey Thurstan looked around carefully before he opened the door to the cabin. All the loose ends had been taken care of in the job that he had been assigned. There was nothing to remember about this cabin that his group had been allowed to see in the last few jobs they’d done. Nothing to give them any idea of what he’d been told by Lord Voldemort specifically to do. As a precaution, a little over half of them had their memories of this cabin deftly _obliviated_ in such a way that for them, the cabin did not exist. The Fidelius had been considered, but that idea was discarded since finding a suitable Secret-Keeper wasn’t that easy.

The rest of the men had been deemed unsuitable for further service. They were disposed of without any discussion.

Satisfied that no wizards or witches had been made aware of his presence, the mercenary slipped into the cabin. The door had been spelled on the last visit to open without a bit of noise and this aided him with stealth, if not just his ease of mind. There was too much to concentrate on tonight to worry about whether the sound had carried in the cold air to unwanted ears.

Inside, he tapped the heating runes and soon the small floor space was warm enough for him. He set to work, since he had something to do that absolutely had to be done tonight. Thurstan pulled the vial of blood from his pocket to check its viability. He had been guarding this since Voldemort gave it to him and he couldn’t risk losing it.

Thurstan went about gathering the rest of the things that he needed. Oh, yes, tonight would be the end of what he’d agreed to do for the Dark Lord all those years ago. As he worked, he ignored the dusty little corner of his mind that asked if it had been worth the waiting and all the heartache that he’d been through to reach this point.

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Large green eyes watched the cabin patiently from within the tree line behind the cabin. There was a barrier of some sort that he didn’t agree with and it made his whiskers twist up. No wonder Crookshanks hated it. The tabby cat eased his way over to a low overhanging tree branch and jumped up. He peered hard to look into the window the best that he could from the distance, to see someone inside with things he didn’t recognize. There was some kind of rotten blood that he could smell and it made him grimace.

This barrier was disgusting, and it carried some of the scents from inside its perimeter that made him want to cough up a hairball or three. Still the tabby took note of everything he could. Old Bandylegs would want to know about it. The old beak would, too.

A few minutes later, after looking around to make sure he’d missed nothing, he eased his way out to make his report. If he was lucky, there would still be a mouse or two left. He sneered at the sensation of his whiskers straightening out. This was not fun and it really ruined his mood. It was going to take a lot more than the usual grooming tonight before he felt halfway decent to look upon.

Whatever this place was, it was not a good place. It made his fur stand on end, worse than if a pretentious Krup was barking at him. The sooner he could get away from here, the better and hopefully he was shot of this ugly thing. It didn’t look welcoming to him at all. Frankly, it looked like every bit of dark that the two-legs liked to talk about.

Well, he had claws and teeth that had something to say about that, if necessary. The tabby hoped that it wasn’t.

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At the Owlery, Gleamtalon sat back on his perch. There was something new going on, and the old owl could feel the pull on his magic. He was not a bonded owl familiar as Hedwig was, but due to the vagaries of Magic he’d been apportioned a greater intelligence and link to magic than he otherwise would have. Lady Hedwig was stronger in magic than he was due to her link to young Potter, but he didn’t get to his advanced age because he was stupid. He got there by being cognizant of the minute changes in the flow of magic. Being younger, she had things to learn and he would teach her before his time here was over.

Since his work was caught up for the moment, he decided to fly around the grounds of Hogwarts. It wasn’t something that he was able to do a lot of, due to the responsibilities of his office. Still, he was a magical owl and flying was something that he did without conscious thought. Indeed, in his younger days, he’d cut quite a rakish figure in the speed races held in his home forests. He and an old friend named Sharpbeak would sit back and pass earthworms back and forth as they relived some of the more dangerous races they’d been though at that younger age.

They also bragged to each other about the young and nubile females that would watch the races, but since that was quite some time ago they both knew they tended to exaggerate a good deal by now. Neither one would admit it to the other, of course.

Sharpbeak had made a name for himself as a detective. Investigation had always been his strong suit, or as Crookshanks would snicker he was best at being nosy. The two of them got along well enough that others in the Owlery worried anytime both were seen in the same area. Things got hidden quite quickly when both showed up, no matter the reason. Gleamtalon was sure it was because they had the ‘being nosy’ part sewed up between them.

The bandy legged feline never denied it. In fact, he seemed to revel in the accusation with all the delight he could muster. The riposte of ‘well, if I didn’t someone else would and it would probably be someone you didn’t want to know’ wasn’t something the old owl wanted to hear. He also couldn’t deny the fact that it was too close for comfort for his happiness. For that matter there were things about the Owlery’s work that he hoped Crookshanks didn’t know, but considering who his mistress was, well…

Gleamtalon put that very uneasy thought about Crookshanks’ intelligence boost from Miss Granger out of his mind with great difficulty. The speculation he’d been hearing around the Owlery admin offices about what young Mister Potter taught Miss Granger in all their misadventures and vice versa didn’t help. On the one wing, he thought that they made for an excellent match, but on the other – well, he shuddered at the thought of things going wrong. On the gripping talon, it was something that he couldn’t really do much about anyway. Such was sometimes the burden of magical owls.

The last meeting that he and the smug feline had with the Snowy owl had been going through his mind for a few days. He’d meant to get out that way and look for himself to see what was going on, but he needed to talk with Lady Hedwig about it first. He trusted her perspective on things like this. The old owl had thought long and hard before making a suggestion to Crookshanks.

Gleamtalon was less sure if it was a good idea to have Crookshanks along or not. By nature of his different species, he could perceive things in a different way than either of the owls. This could be good or bad. Good would be the observation that the half-Kneazle could bring up and bad was something that he didn’t want to think about. Crookshanks was almost a force of nature when he got riled up and he did that easier than the owls did. It was a good thing that his magical gift let him divine the nature of others with inerrancy, otherwise there would be a lot of trouble.

Come to think about it, there was a lot of trouble anyway. The old owl sighed, resigned to this simple fact of life. Kneazles and half-Kneazles. Sometimes it made an old owl want to drink.

He was still pondering what his next course of action would be when a messenger leaf fluttered down. Grabbing it to read whatever message it contained was easy enough, even though he would rather have grabbed a nice juicy mouse.

Gleamtalon shook the thought out of his head as the contents of the message made itself visible. So something might have happened with Harry and Hermione, did it? Both Lady Hedwig and Crookshanks reported that their familiar magic had somehow taken a large jump upward in power. This bore some thought. It was something that he thought had happened when he saw her flight. He didn’t want to think about the corresponding abilities Crookshanks might be manifesting now. The feline had a propensity to prank sometimes, but there had never been a way to catch him doing it. Now, there never would.

A passing thought was given to the future condition of the upstart owls that objected to the feline’s presence during their meeting days. Gleamtalon sighed. More’s the pity.

The message gave coordinates for a meeting place in the Forbidden Forest, set for the next day. More information would be relayed at that meeting. Gleamtalon wasn’t too fond of venturing there into the Forest, not unless he really had to. His younger self thought it was a hoot, pun not intended, but his older self knew better. Still, it was deemed suitable to be held in the safest area in the Forest. ‘Safe’ was a relative term, of course. He personally was not going to tangle with any acromantulas. Any time any of the younger bloods decided to hoot about going into the colony and ‘showing them a thing or two,’ Gleamtalon would sigh, shake his head, and put in a new personnel request with a sharply worded note about better basic training requirements. It would behoove the new recruits to know the difference between a wolf spider and an acromantula long before they got up close and personal with them.

Considering the way the politicians stole funds from his budget every year, it was a wonder he had enough staff to run the Owlery properly. It was an old refrain that worn a deep rut in his mind.

Shaking his head, he made a notation on his work calendar to make the meeting. Thankfully, there wasn’t anything important that couldn’t be shifted around. Some of the younger owls under him deserved a chance to make their marks, so he spent a few minutes delegating work to them. If what he feared was happening, then he might not be in the office as much for a while.

Another sigh. He’d been thinking about a vacation for a while, since everything seemed to be running smooth. Gleamtalon had let himself forget out the Potter luck. So much for those thoughts.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

James had awakened a few moments after Lily. He sat up, groaning in pain, and blinked his eyes. His glasses sat askew on his face and it took him a moment to straighten them. When his eyes finished clearing, he saw his wife with her arms around a teenager and both sobbing their eyes out.

“Are you all right?”

The gentle question came from his right. He looked over to see a brunette in a white robe, similar to the other teenager. The riotous mass of curls on her head still sparked with residual energy but it didn’t seem to bother her. She did seem to be concerned about his condition, but he didn’t know why. Come to think about it, he didn’t know what he was doing here. Where was Voldemort?

“I’m…” he paused to consider the question. “… I’m okay, I guess. Who are you?”

“I’m Hermione Granger.”

“James Potter,” came the immediate response, through a grimace of pain.

She looked at him with a good deal of surprise on her face, so much so that he was starting to get concerned. Wherever this place was, which looked both familiar and unknown for some unsettling reason. It was like he’d been here before.

“Say, where are we, anyway?”

“We’re on the grounds of Hogwarts, in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. The castle is back there.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder and kept speaking. She regarded him like he was a fascinating painting. “How about that. It’s true.”

“What is? The castle?”

“No. Well, yes, that too, but I meant something else. It’s true, Harry looks just like you.”

She pointed another finger at the sobbing pair just as Harry turned his head. James saw Lily’s eyes peering at him from the young man’s face. Later, he wouldn’t remember bounding to his feet and rushing to join them.

The reunion was as full of tears as expected for all three. The fact that one of the members was suddenly older simply didn’t matter at the moment. It only paused for a moment when Hedwig banked from above and settled on Harry’s shoulder. A moment or two later and a bottlebrush tail announced its presence, along with the rest of Crookshanks, who sat down at Hermione’s feet to watch.

James took his son by the shoulders. He looked deep into the emerald eyes, comparing them to the eyes of his wife. The eyes, the unmanageable hair, the face, but why was he smaller than expected?

“Harry? It really is you! But… how?”

To his surprise, Harry blushed the deepest red he’d ever seen on a person and James Potterhadknown most of Sirius Black’s variousmortifying escapades. An eyebrow raised itself without a conscious thought and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily’s brow knit together. Harry gulped.

“Welllll…”

That was all Harry could get out and James let him go. He looked up at the Snowy owl on Harry’s shoulder and saw what had to be an expression of true amusement on the owl’s face. She turned to groom his hair, looking like she was trying for all the world to get it to lay flat. Yeah, good luck with that.

Now, an amused owl? That was even possible? He looked over to the girl, Herm-something, and saw a blushing that matched Harry’s. Somewhere in his mind, a connection clicked closed when he saw how close they were standing and the fingers that found each other.

Oho.

Oh, this was going to be good. His Marauder senses was going bonkers. His son, the ol’ Potter charm, a pretty girl, and blushes like that? Oh, this had possibilities! He listened to the girl.

“We used the Quanot’s Tear ritual to bring you back. Magic told us that the two of you were not completely dead, just ‘mostly dead’ for want of a better word.”

James squinted at Hermione.

“How can you be ‘mostly dead?’ That makes no sense. You’re either all dead or not dead.”

Hermione grinned at some joke. “It just so happens that Magic basically said that both of you were only mostly dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead.”

Harry shook his head, since he knew what was coming.

“Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead, well, with all dead there's usually only one thing you can do.”

James looked at the two of them.

“Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”

Hermione blew a curl off her forehead. Harry chuckled at her. He knew James had spoiled her joke, so he leaned in toward her.

“Loose change, right?”

She smiled at him but didn’t say anything. Lily was confused.

“But what was this about Magic?”

“There was something that happened before Voldemort attacked your house in Godric’s Hollow. What I don’t know, but whatever it was, it allowed me to do this. Magic said that Tom Riddle usurped Death’s business and the partnership he held with Life and that couldn’t happen.”

James looked up.

“Tom Riddle? Who’s Tom Riddle?”

Harry grimaced.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle is also known as Voldemort.” It looked to James like Harry had some kind of internal debate happening before he said his next words. “His shade told me that before I killed Slytherin’s basilisk.”

“ _BASILISK?!”_ Lily screamed. A few birds took flight, startled at the sudden outburst. _“What basilisk?”_

James stared at Harry.

“Yeah, Harry, I kinda want to know about that too.”

Harry paled at the sight of his mother’s gimlet eye.

“Um… we have so much to catch up on. Can we tell that story later?”

Hermione shook her head sadly. Oh, Harry.

“That’s not going to work, Harry.”

“You’re damned right that’s not going to work. _What_ basilisk, Harry?” Lily’s voice was cast-iron.

Harry sighed. If he didn’t know better, Crookshanks was laughing at him too.

“Okay, I’ll go into greater detail later, but right now it’s a little chilly out here, okay? I found the Chamber of Secrets in my second year and went into it to rescue Ginny Weasley, who I later discovered had been possessed by Voldemort and was having her life force drawn off to bring him back to life. I had to stop that from happening and I killed a giant basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

Harry hoped that would do for a bit.

“That’s all?”

Well, he’d hoped it would do but apparently in vain.

“Well. No, there’s more. A lot more.”

Hermione shivered and burrowed back into his arms. There was a new voice, off to the side.

“And you’d better believe there’s more! This young stallion has been _very busy!_ ”

Harry groaned. He’d forgotten about the centauride. James’ head came up.

“Who’s there! Who’s out there… well, _helllloooo_ there!”

Kateira stepped into view. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that her hair was down. It wasn’t as unobtrusive as he’d hoped apparently, since Hermione poked him in the ribs.

“James!”

“Sorry, Lils, I was surprised. So, _young stallion,_ juuust how busy have you been? There aren’t any little Potters running around, right? And if there are, did you name them after me and your mother?”

Harry squeaked.

“No! I haven’t! Wait, I mean...”

He squeaked again when he looked to the side to see Hermione staring at him. Her face was stormy.

“I promise! No little Potters! You’ll be the first to know anything about that!”

She glanced down at a certain part of Harry, which was trying to be quite unnoticeable at that moment.

“I better be the first.”

Lily snorted at this, trying to be stern but she couldn’t help it. The betrayed look Harry shot her didn’t help.

“Mum, I promise, I’ll tell you everything.”

Lily raised her eyebrow.

“Everything?”

Kateira guffawed.

“Let me know if he does that! I wanna know too!”

The betrayed look transferred to her, which was ignored. Hermione managed to stifle her laughs to make introductions to the centauride. Kateira’s eyes went wide and she tied her hair back without a thought before pointing to James and Lily.

“Wait, you’re telling me that this ritual worked? This is really James and Lily Potter standing here? Harry has his parents back with him?”

“It is and he does.”

The centauride whooped in celebration, and danced around. She rushed forward before the younger Potter could escape and gathered Harry in for another hug. He found himself smooshed up again her chest again. She shook him around, the power in her arms gifted from the centaur’s practice of archery easily pinning him there. Harry was being softly bludgeoned on each side of his face, but he couldn’t say a word or move. Hermione _accioed_ his glasses before Kateira danced on them with her hooves. She leaned toward Lily as Kateira squealed in happiness for the turn in Harry’s luck.

“Think I should be worried? That’s twice today she’s done that.”

James gaped, a little envious.

“ _Twice?_ And he complained about it the first time? Seriously?” Lily slapped him on the back of his head. “Ow!”

Lily smiled.

“After that kiss he gave her? No, not at all. Besides, look at her. Would you want that kind of back pain?”

Hermione considered.

“No, not really. And no, James, he didn’t really complain the first time.”

After a moment, Kateira let him go.

“Sorry, Harry, really.” She straightened his glasses as Hermione handed them to her and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “Your mare is waiting for you. Sorry, Hermione, I got caught up. Sorry!”

James glanced at the perkiness on display, and grumbled, “I’ll say.” Thankfully for the back of his head, Lily didn’t hear or see him this time. She had other things on her mind.

“Now, tell me why you two blushed so much.”

Kateira guffawed again and they all looked at her. She waved them off and chuckled to herself.

“Sorry, private thought.” The salacious tone didn’t help.

Harry groaned again, and Hermione kissed his chin. She felt a little nervous, too.

“Well, Mister and Missus Potter…”

“Gah. Call me James.”

Hermione looked at Lily.

“Lily will do for me as well. Don’t think I didn’t notice the change of address.”

Hermione nodded and continued.

“Harry has not had the easiest of lives growing up without either of you and the Dursleys was the cause…”

Lily boiled up.

“Dursleys! Where was Sirius! Do you mean to tell me that you lived with my sister?”

Hermione was unmoved.

“That’s part of the story for tonight, and it’s hard enough for Harry as it is. He needs you now and I did what I needed to do to get you for him. I’ll do anything for him but there are some things I can’t do.”

She looked at Lily with a raised eyebrow and the redhead settled down on a convenient log while muttering potent things under her breath.

“Did they at least treat you well?”

Harry’s throat locked up and he shook his head. Lily started to jump to her feet again, but stopped when she felt Kateira’s hand on her shoulder. The centauride lead her off the to side and bent down to whisper in Lily’s ear.

“Don’t tell James yet, but Harry’s got scars all over his body. They had to do this ritual nude and I saw them, so don’t jump to conclusions, okay? A lot of those scars look years old, some don’t, and you might have a hard time getting it out of him. He’s undersized, too. I don’t think he had enough to eat growing up. Harry really needs his mother.”

Lily turned to look at Kateira and saw tears in her eyes. The centauride nodded sadly and swiped her hair across her eyes to dry the tears. The redhead slumped back to the log and looked at Harry.

“Okay. Tell me later, but it’s something that I want to know about. Everything. You’re still my baby boy, even if you’re not a baby anymore.”

Harry nodded, still unable to speak. Hermione went on after a moment.

“I did a lot of research, looking for a way and I found the Quanot’s Tear ritual. It’s very, very old. Centuries. It made some kind of direct connection to time and Magic.”

Lily gasped, a part of what Kateira said jumping back to the front of her mind.

“You had to do this kind of ritual naked. Don’t lie.” Lily’s green eyes bored into the sheepish green eyes of her son. Kateira snorted.

“Ummm…”

“Yeah, Prongslet, and it wasn’t that hard of a decision to make. Or was it?”

“James!”

“I’m just saying, Lils.” His voice was more serious than it had been for a good bit. “If it had been you thinking something like this up for my parents after their deaths, I wouldn’t have wasted one second deciding that. In fact, I’d have stripped you and me and ran flopping away to the circle as fast as I could while carrying you.”

Harry’s face turned green and he choked, trying not to visualize that. James winked at Lily, who sighed in resignation. He looked back at Harry, laughing. The seriousness hadn’t lasted long.

“Oh... sorry about that, Harry.” The angelic look on his face was marred by the unholy gleam in his eyes. He didn’t look the least bit sorry until he glanced over to see two witches glaring at him, mirror images of each other. One had a wand that was glowing. The hazel eyes behind the crooked glasses grew wide.

“Oh, shit.”

James dashed behind Harry and crouched down. It didn’t as work as well as when he did the same thing with Sirius since Harry wasn’t as big as Sirius had been.

“Save me, Harry from that wild woman!”

Harry looked at Hermione and Lily, who stood in front of them.

“Um. Which one?”

Lily laughed. It sounded hollow to Harry.

“Good answer, Harry, but I don’t have a wand.”

From behind Harry, there was a distinct chuckle.

“That one doesn’t need a wand. Her tongue is enough.” His eyebrows waggled suggestively.

Harry choked again and Hermione chuckled at his expression. Lily rolled her eyes at her husband.

“Sorry, Harry!”

Hermione took pity on her boyfriend and hugged him. She whispered in his ear, “Move to the left a bit.”

He did, and James suddenly found himself petrified from a whispered incantation as Hermione poked her wand through the crook in Harry’s arm. It didn’t take him long to decide to get out of the way once he caught a closer glimpse of her eyes, burning with as much ire as he’d ever seen. Harry looked back at James and decided to do what he could to mitigate his punishment.

He kissed Hermione.

In the history of time there have been a few kisses that were full of love and emotion. This one said more than all of them combined. Harry poured every bit of love and thanks for what Hermione did for him into his kiss, and when he stepped back he had to catch her from falling. Her eyes were crossed and she didn’t know or care that her _Petrific_ _us Totalus_ had faded from James.

James looked at Lily, who looked back at him with tears in her eyes.

“James, don’t you…”

“No, sweetheart, I won’t. I can’t, really. I honestly think we’re looking at the next Lady Potter.”

She nestled into his arms.

“I think so, too.”

“Look at them. I don’t think they realize we’re standing here right now.”

“I think you’re right. And just think, he did that to keep you from getting hexed more.”

“I don’t think he was complaining too much, though.”

They looked at the younger pair, who had by then cuddled together. It was indeed apparent that neither Harry or Hermione realized that James and Lily were standing there.

“James?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Are you going to just stand there and let your son outdo you?”

As it turned out, James did his best and caught Lily before she fell. It was a good thing that the younger pair was lost in their own world.

After a few minutes, Kateira cleared her throat. The others looked at her and she smiled.

“I have a doozy of a report to give my father, so I’ll just be about it, hmm?”

Harry reached out a hand and she took it.

“Thank you, Kateira.”

“You’re welcome, young stallion. If your mare ever needs help…” She trailed off suggestively, jiggled at him, and trotted off. The other laughed at Harry’s expression, James the loudest.

“So, what’s this about being a stallion, Harry? You never quite made that clear. You’re not a horse animagus, are you?”

“Ah… no.” Harry looked at Hermione, beseeching her for her help. Her face was red again but there was a little smile there.

“You’d have to ask Kateira that. She started calling him that after the ritual cooled down.”

“Oh, so you mean…”

Lily elbowed him in the side and he yelped.

“James!”

“What? It’s a reasonable question.”

“Well, I don’t really want to know!”

“Okay, okay. No stallion related questions. Can I ask about tack, though?”

“James…” Lily growled out.

“Okay! No tack.” He held up his hands. “Now, how are we going to get to the castle? Pony Express?” There was a muffled _whack._ “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be quiet!”

It was a good thing James said that, since Hermione’s wand tip was glowing again. After a moment, Harry spoke.

“Patronuses. Send a Patronus to Professor Dumbledore.”

Lily’s interest sharpened.

“You can cast a Patronus?”

“Yes, mum. I taught Hermione the charm too.”

Lily smiled and traded looks with James.

“Harry, what do we tell Professor Dumbledore though?”

“Um… maybe come here with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall? We can’t use the Cloak since that elf took our clothes back to the castle and it was with my robes.” Harry blushed again as Lily’s eyebrow rose.

Hermione thought about that and shrugged.

“It’s as good as anything. He’s the only one that can apparate within Hogwarts.”

“Well, let’s do it.”

So saying, Harry took his wand from Hermione. He jabbed his wand toward the castle.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_

Beside him, he heard Hermione cast her Patronus. James and Lily gasped as the stag erupted from Harry’s wand.

“Prongs!”

Harry nodded to James, confirming what he called his Patronus. Lily gasped to see Hermione’s otter bounding around the feet of the gleaming stag.

“Go to Professor Dumbledore. Headmaster, we need you at the centaur’s ritual circle soonest. We have important visitors that we haven’t seen in a long time. Bring Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey with you. We wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need you.”

The stag nodded his head and the otter chittered. Both bounded off, the gleam of the Patronuses lighting the way back to the castle. It took five or ten minutes, but soon there was a light _crack._ Professor Dumbledore stood there with the requested Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.

“Ah! Harry! It was such a pleasure to see your Patronus and Miss Granger’s Patronus so… cuddly, shall we say? Even if it does mean I now owe Minerva ten Galleons.”

“Fifteen, Albus. Don’t try to weasel out of it again.”

Madam Pomfrey chuckled.

“He owed me ten Galleons, too, Minerva. Don’t forget that.”

Hermione facepalmed.

“Are you telling me you bet on Harry and me getting together?”

“Well, of course, dear girl! We’re not supposed to bet on Quidditch, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“ _Not s_ _upposed to._ Suuure.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, and not for the first time Harry wondered how he did that.

“It’s not all parchmentwork, Harry my boy. We have to have some entertainment to balance out the more… solemn things that happen. Now, what help do you need?”

Harry gestured to where James and Lily sat. Dumbledore’s blue eyes lost the twinkle.

“Oh, my.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Inside the cabin, Geffrey Thurstan nodded as he put the last item he needed in a sack. Forgetting that vial would have been the last mistake he ever made, so he made sure that he had it. He stepped outside to set his sack down out of the way, and raised his wand to an unnoticeable rune at the bottom of the doorjamb. Thurstan cursed the pops in his knees as he knelt to more easily reach the rune.

“This was a lot easier to do the last time I did this,” he grumbled to himself.

The wand made contact with the rune, and Thurstan pushed just enough magic into the rune to activate it. The explosive power coming from the rune threw him ten feet away. He landed on his back and air huffed out of his lungs from the impact. There was a clamor as the cabin collapsed on itself and he watched the wood fall apart. It looked like a large pile of shredded parchment after a few minutes.

“That’s it?”

The pile burst into flame and it didn’t take long to render the parchment into fine ashes. It was so quick that it took him a moment to realize that his eyebrows had been burnt completely off. His face was hot as if he had a sunburn.

“Great, just great. Knocked on my arse, back twisted up, legs feel like they got stepped on by a hippogriff, and I got my eyebrows burned to a crisp. Lovely.”

He continued to mutter to himself as he set up the ritual. Once sundown came, it would be time to complete it and frankly he was past ready to finish this. He was getting too old for this crap.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

It took a few moments, but Albus Dumbledore finally said something. Harry was listening closely, since he really needed some wisdom from the admittedly much older wizard to steady him. When it came, he was not disappointed.

“How in the seven hells…” and there was a snap as the aged warlock cut himself off.

Strangely, that made Harry feel much better. There was a snicker from James.

“Don’t ask me, Albus, I’m just along for the ride. Between you and me though, I’ve always found that asking either my wife or the smartest witch around helps. Usually that’s the same person, however, it seems that Lily has some competition for that title now.”

Hermione smiled but didn’t say anything. Dumbledore gaped like a fish for a moment before managing to say something else.

“Yes, well, where Miss Granger is concerned I would have to agree. She is quite intelligent and if Mister Potter… er, the younger Mister Potter that is, has any sense and not be so stubborn he’ll listen to her more often.”

There was a Scottish snort from somewhere to the side.

“Good luck with that. It must run in the family,” McGonagall mumbled to herself. From the vindicated expression on Lily’s face and the pointed look she gave James, she’d heard what the older witch said. James did too, and tried to appear as saintly as possible.

From the general disbelief he was getting from the others, it seemed that he was less than successful. Harry sighed to himself, since he really couldn’t say anything about that and knew better than to even try. Hermione took pity on him. She drew herself up and spoke as much as her now-chattering teeth could pull off.

“Professor, maybe we could continue this in a warmer place?”

Dumbledore took in the rather thin ritual robes that she and Harry wore, glanced at the circle, and a snowy eyebrow rose. He could sense the magical residue in the air, and the underlying power and brightness as the circle had retained a very slight glow spoke to the Light manifestation of Magic itself. If it had been otherwise, as in Dark Magic, the circle would have taken on a dull and shadowed hue. The power it would have taken to perform the specific ritual he was fairly sure that had happened here would explain the chill they felt. It did take something out of a person or two in this case, after all.

“Well, well. Miss Granger, I really shouldn’t be surprised by now, but you still do it. Very well, however we’ll need to proceed without Apparation. Even I cannot Side-Along Apparate everyone at one time, and we should take care not to be seen in the castle just yet.” He waved his wand and conjured thick woolen blankets over Harry and Hermione.

She agreed, and he looked at James and Lily.

“I am not assured of your identity yet, so there will be tests.”

Lily stood up and glared at the Headmaster. Her eyes sparked. At her side, Harry did the same without thinking.

“And just what tests are you planning, Albus?”

Albus raised the other eyebrow at the sight of two pairs of emerald green eyes sparking and sighed.

“Lily, you know I have to do this. Would you do otherwise in my case? Remember, I was not present at your appearance.”

She settled down a bit, but the eyes still sparked.

“And when you do verify who I am, I want _a little talk_ with you about how Harry grew up. We were only able to see a little from the other side, but we saw enough to have concerns.”

To his credit, Albus Dumbledore managed to hide the shiver that went down his spine. He simply nodded. That was not going to be an easy conversation if this was really Lily Potter standing before him. James would be a little easier to handle, even as Lord Potter, but Lily’s instincts as a mother or her fiery temper was not to discounted.

There was a _thunk_ as a brightly painted arrow landed in a tree twenty feet away, with a parchment tied around it. The fletching stood out for the size and contrasting colors. The whole arrow looked quite beautiful – practically a work of art. Harry was the first to reach it and took it down, leaving the arrow in the tree. He unrolled the parchment to read.

_Young stallion,_

_I address you that way since my daughter has apparently given you that sobriquet for some reason,_ _Harry,_ _although she wouldn’t say why. Her happiness at the success of your endeavor speaks well to the charisma that I have known you_ _to_ _have_ _for some time. The success_ _itself_ _speaks well to the_ _combined_ _power you and Miss Granger possess._

_The Centaurs are aware of the presence of Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey and why. However, I would urge you not to dally within this area. Others in the Herd are still quite touchy. Having said that, the less touchy among us are quite curious about how you and Miss Granger did it. Might you and she allow a conversation at some point in the future? Kateira is quite enthusiastic in this regard. You have created a life-long friend in her, I must say, even on short acquaintance. That is usually not her way. Knowing both you and Miss Granger, I’m not surprised._

_As for myself, I welcome the return of James and Lily, and I look forward to a long conversation with them. Attend to the more pressing matters that demand attention and I will await their presence in my classroom. I will understand if it takes a few days or even a couple of weeks. There are certain things in the stars that all need to be made aware of, but those are not immediate._

_In the meantime Harry, take the arrow as a gift to you and Miss Granger from the Centaurs to commemorate the success of this rare ritual. I would recommend using it temporarily as a Portkey, however, it would make for a fine wall mounting. Consider it a gift for your nuptials, which I look forward to._

_Firenze_

Harry nodded unconsciously and handed the parchment to Hermione. She read it and went a bit pink at the nuptials comment. They made eye contact and grinned at each other before he turned to Professor Dumbledore.

“Professor, as soon as I can get this arrow out of the tree, can you make it a Portkey out of here? The Centaurs are congratulatory in this note, but want us on our way out of the Forest. Preferably soonest, if I read this correctly. They are giving Hermione and I the arrow to mount on the wall.”

Eyebrows rose all around as Harry finally yanked it out. He was busy making sure he didn’t poke himself with the sharp arrowhead and missed the smug looks being traded between the elders. James and Lily looked a bit confused at this and Hermione was looking around suspiciously but no one made any comments revealing what was on their minds.

Again to his credit, Professor Dumbledore didn’t react to the mention of wall mounting other than the glance at McGonagall. She made a motion of rubbing her fingers against her thumb in the old motion for counting Galleons where only he could see it and Dumbledore gave a tiny sigh in resignation. He took the arrow as Harry handed it to him, also being careful of the arrowhead.

“Of course, Harry. I suspect that both you and Miss Granger will be thankful for a large mug of hot chocolate in the castle. Would my office suffice as a destination? I have a simple test in mind.”

“That sounds wonderful, Professor,” Harry shivered. By now Hermione had joined him under his blanket. He yelped as she somehow managed to put her cold hands on his belly, trying to warm them up. James grinned and leaned in toward his son.

“You think that’s bad, wait until she puts her cold feet on your bad in wintertime.”

Hermione glared at him, and he retreated while trying to look angelic. It didn’t work any better than any other time he’d tried.

Dumbledore muttered _“Portus”_ under his breath, and the arrow glowed a subdued blue. It took a moment for seven hands to find a grip on the nearly three-foot arrow when he held it out, but they managed.

“Activate,” he said. Everyone felt the usual sensation of a portkey working, and they vanished. The slight rush of air displacement was the only thing that marked their disappearance and somewhere nearby in the forest a breathy giggle was heard.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

The time for Gleamtalon’s meeting had finally approached and with a sigh, he set off to be there on time. The time it took for him to fly there gave him an opportunity to order his thoughts. There was still some information missing, as it usually was the case, but hopefully he could get it here.

Several wary glances were cast around before he decided to land, since the thought of hosting an acromantula or three at this meeting was not a fun one. If it hadn’t been Lady Hedwig that asked for it here, he would have refused. If it was Crookshanks, he definitely would. The orange half-Kneazle took too much inspiration from those twin terrors he’d watched over the years, and the older owl wouldn’t put it past him to try something underhanded as a prank.

Seeing that no eight-legged pests were present, he alighted on a convenient branch. Soon he saw Crookshanks stalk into the clearing, silent as any of his kind was. The old owl was impressed, since his friend was not precisely ‘slim and trim’ anymore. Still, he watched as Crookshanks approached a small wooden deck with a short railing that was raised a few inches off the ground. Gleamtalon had noticed it when he arrived, but didn’t know what it was for.

Apparently, the feline familiar did. He jumped up onto the platform and circled it for a moment before curling up and purring. Gleamtalon descended from the tree onto the railing and found that it was quite warm.

That was appreciated, especially from a owl of his age. He was luxuriating in the feel and wondering if he could find something similar for his office when the rail vibrated. He looked up to see the third member of their little group regarding him with amusement, having just landed.

“Enjoying the new perch, milord?”

“Oh, of course. You’ll understand when you get to my age.”

“I’m sure I will,” Hedwig laughed. “To business. Have you received any other information, either of you?”

Gleamtalon shook his head, the feathers moving slowly.

“No, milady, I have not.”

Crookshanks sat up and stretched lazily.

“I do. One of my partners went to look at this… place… and came away with the opinion that there was something foul either being perpetrated or about to be. It seemed to him that there was a build-up of something there and he couldn’t get away fast enough. Nikolai was quite shaken.”

“What was it?”

“He indicated that something felt _dead,_ for all he could sense in that shack. There was something moving around in there, but the feeling of death in there far outweighed any other thing he could see, smell, or otherwise sense. The magic concentrated there was… well, wrong was the best way to describe it.”

“Something necromantic?” Gleamtalon shuddered in distaste.

“Almost, but not quite. Nikolai only made his report to me a few minutes ago, then left to clean himself most thoroughly. When the door opened, he left to avoid detection from whatever foul thing or things that was in that cabin. From a greater distance and hidden under some scrubby bushes, he saw that the start of something was about to happen. The human was unclothed and very pale and sickly looking.”

Hedwig considered, then nodded.

“Better some information than no information. I admit that I’m very uneasy flying over that area. It feels like up is down, left is right, every thermal shoves me down instead of lifts me up. It’s something that I’m very concerned about.”

Gleamtalon nodded.

“And that means that sooner or later, your young Mister Potter will find himself in the thick of it.”

“Whatever it is…”

Her voice was cut off in a choking sound and Gleamtalon jerked around to see her struggling to keep her perch. She flared her wings and drifted to the ground where she huddled. A faint glow arose, matching the same glow from Crookshanks. He mewed in desperation, the eyes in his squashed face crossing. Gleamtalon tore his eyes off the half-Kneazle’s distress to see Lady Hedwig’s similar reactions of distress.

“ Whatever it is, it’s getting stronger,” she finally squawked, the alarm very evident. Her amber eyes were as wide as he’d seen any owl’s ever be.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Blood was streaming from his right eye. The second half of the ritual had gone well so far, if he ignored the blood.

 _It was almost completed,_ Thurstan thought, _and_ _I’m_ _damned glad_ _of it_ _too._

He went back over the last few minutes in a quick mental review. There had been some questions in his mind as he went through the procedure but those questions were savagely beaten back.

The first question came when he was distracted measuring out the circle to confirm it was the right size. For some unknown reason now lost to antiquity, the circumference had to be exactly 8.3 meters. It came to 8.299 meters, which he figured was close enough. The first time around it didn’t matter what size and he’d been distracted then, anyway. He didn’t consider a millimeter’s different that big of a deal. His shadow was bigger than that.

As he’d stripped – after putting some heating charms around the outside of that circle – Thurstan next wondered why it was so cold and where the buzzing noise was coming from. It sounded for all the world like a giant bumblebee. There were no Dementors around, he hoped. As far as he knew, they didn’t buzz like insects. He didn’t like the thought of any stinging insects landing hits on certain sensitive spots of his body, but he disliked the thoughts of Dementors crashing the party more.

Thurstan ignored that thought, only to be assailed with the thought of having to leave his wand outside the circle. At least he didn’t have to use his own blood to power the ritual he was in the process of starting. He uncapped the vial and grimaced at the thought of his next actions but remembered that he’d sworn an oath to the Dark Lord and failure was simply not an option. Refusal wasn’t, either.

“ _Dico enim jungens!”_

He muttered the starting phrases under his breath and saw the edges of the circle gleam. The rather large vial gained a pulse of light that matched the circle, which seemed to indicate to him that all was going as planned. Thurstan still didn’t relish the necessity, but he upended the vial and drank the contents down. He managed to get it down and for a moment the scars on his face stood out as his cheeks flooded with blood.

Thurstan didn’t want to think about anything else. His stomach started jumping and he was feeling very queasy now, but the research into Rycharde was quite adamant. No vomiting, since any stomach fluids being lost would lessen the impact he was aiming for.

Why stomach fluids had been specified or how the poor bastard had figured it out, he didn’t know. That was yet another question that he’d never thought to ask.

At that point, he just wanted this done and over with.

“ _Dico enim bellum et consilium!”_

The phrases he knew he needed to speak came next, delivered as confidently as he was able to trot them out. Thurstan heard the wind suddenly pick up before his knee shattered from some unknown force that felt like tons of snow had hit it. His shoulder suddenly felt like a large ice sword had stabbed into it at the same time. There wasn’t time to cry out in pain before the hard stone of the circle yanked him down to meet it.

There was the start of another question, something along the lines of _What in the hell is going on here,_ but the scarred man had been oddly distracted by a tiny stone chip that ripped into the side of his eyeball. There was a minuscule part of his mind that fancied that the stone chip made a tiny _chink_ noise against the side of his nose.

He managed to ignore that question, the freezing pain in his knee and shoulder, and the burning pain in his eye as he dragged himself more or less upright. It took him a few minutes to clearly utter the third incantation. His hands traversed the space inside the circle in the prescribed manner.

“ _Expleto tandem, serius ad ultimum!”_

As soon as the last syllable fell from his lips, agony struck in his stomach and radiated outward. He could feel the fire in his belly climbing up his esophagus and rippling over his tongue. Thurstan opened his mouth to scream and flames erupted. A mass of golden sparks flowed from his lips, which quickly peeled off his face and dropped to ground to shrivel up. The air that fueled the screams also fed the fire and soon there was a steady golden rivulet of flame shooting from Thurstan’s mouth.

There was no time left for him to consider any questions. He had already fallen when his knee shattered. Thurstan had thought a moment ago that his part in the assignment his Master had set for him would have been completed after the third incantation released the ritual to start its work, and he could get a cold drink with as much alcohol content as he could find.

That was a very incorrect thought.

The scarred man was gaining more scars by the moment as the blood that Voldemort had given him and that he’d consumed as part of the ritual magically ignited. The first part of the ritual had linked together this part he was doing tonight and the first part he’d performed years ago.

The second part had linked his body into the ritual as an unknowing sacrifice to ensure success, and the third part unleashed the completion of the ritual.

Thurstan had no thoughts after that to contribute. The flames by now had shot out of every single opening in his body, charring the exits. It took a few extra moments, but extra openings had been created by flaming scoria percolating outward from his guts and consuming all manner of marrow in his bones.

There wasn’t time for any last thoughts, just a superheated wail as the air rushed over his vocal cords. A final burst of magical energy sublimated his body into a plasma that threw itself against the circle’s ritual wards, which in turn violently dissipated it into nothingness.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Hundreds of miles away, Voldemort stiffened as unknown power flowed into his body. When he recovered from the frankly painful event, he poured a glass of Cabernet. Voldemort raised the glass to the empty room.

“Geffrey Thurstan. Thanks, you gullible fool. Your sacrifice will not go unnoticed.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

The Headmaster’s office was still. There wasn’t a good deal of movement during that time, aside from Fawkes snoozing on his perch with an occasional snort. Various small instruments did whatever Dumbledore had them measuring with a minimum of noise. The Sorting Hat sat in repose, still and silent.

It was to this peaceful scene that the group erupted from the portkey’s clutches. Harry managed to keep his feet, for once, although James tripped over Hermione’s foot and found the edge of the Headmaster’s desk with his chin. Everyone else kept their feet, but it took a moment for James to get up.

“I’m okay!”

“Sometimes I wonder, James.”

“Gee, thanks, Lils.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dumbledore twitched his wand and the ache in James’ jaw eased. Another couple of twitches and several garishly decorated overstuffed chairs appeared around his desk, along with a steaming tea service. Harry and Hermione immediately set course for a fairly sizable chair and piled in together to cuddle. The arrow was placed on the desk, out of the way. Hermione draped the blankets over the two of them and everyone else saw how they relaxed into each other. His arms went around her and her head nestled under his chin.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Lily, who responded with a slight smile at the sight. The older witch promised a conversation with the young mother, who took the silent expectation in stride. There would be time later to catch up and find out what had happened to her son and get a good read on who this young woman was. From the way they were clutching each other, it seemed to her that they knew each other quite well indeed.

Madam Pomfrey’s knowing expression of long-suffering annoyance at her longtime patient’s ability to get into trouble eased at the sight of the two in the armchair. A quick diagnostic just showed low blood sugar and chills, so she quietly told them to eat a good meal and rest. A couple of quick warming charms on them, and she subsided for now. From the expression on Harry’s face, he was sure she was going to drag him kicking and screaming to the Hospital Ward. A raised eyebrow at him told him that it was surely still an option, but if he (doubtfully) behaved she wouldn’t do it. She didn’t miss his sigh of relief but didn’t say anything either.

Dumbledore sat at the desk and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers and thought about where to begin.

“This is quite a surprise.”

Everyone looked at him and McGonagall sighed softly at the obviousness of his statement.

“Nevertheless, there are some considerations to be taken into account. I see before me two people would appear to be James and Lily Potter. Those two people should be, and please excuse me for saying this Harry, but should be dead. That condition should have been for quite some years, now.”

Harry couldn’t stand up for Hermione resting her legs on his lap.

“But Professor, they’re right there.”

“Yes, Harry, I do see that, and I can empathize with your feelings. However, we do have to be careful. As someone with which you are acquainted would say quite loudly, ‘constant vigilance.’ Would you agree?”

Harry settled back, grumbling to himself. Hermione rubbed his arm.

“Yes, professor, but how?”

“That is quite the question. First I have to ask how this came about and since it seemed that the two of you were there, it makes sense to direct that question to the two of you. As both of you, and Mister Weasley, are involved in quite a few adventures – some of them after-hours with that wonderful Cloak and the ingenious Map that _none of us in this room know about_ – the likelihood is increased.”

Everyone watched them blush. Lily slapped James’ arm to make him shut up from the pride he wanted to express. Hermione hid her face in Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to face the Headmaster. He resolved to thank her for that somehow even as the half-moon glasses across the desk framed a full twinkle.

“Professor Dumbledore, I would be lying if I said that I was the brains of the operation. I’ve discovered that it’s easier on me in more than one way if I ask her first. Otherwise, I find myself in situations that I could have otherwise avoided, not to mention quite a bit of trouble with the boss.”

Madam Pomfrey leaned over to Professor McGonagall and Lily to whisper, “She hasn’t wasted any time in getting him trained up properly, has she?”

The professor’s face was admirably even.

“It certainly looks that way but he’s a Potter, you know. She’s still going to have her hands full. It only took her six very busy years,” McGonagall replied.

Lily just sighed heavily, andJames kept his mouth shut. If Dumbledore had noticed the comments, he didn’t let on.

“Indeed, Harry, I have to agree with that. Such would make life easier with the assistance of others. When I answered your Patronuses, I found the two of you in ritual robes having just completed a ritual. Might I have more information?”

Harry sighed and poked Hermione. Her face was still hidden and it took another poke for her to look up. The glare she gave him made the others hide their grins behind hands and tea cups. Dumbledore’s beard twitched.

“At the risk of inciting your considerable ire toward me, Miss Granger, it seems that Harry feels rather incompetent to give a proper report as to your activities and would rather defer to your well-demonstrated greater abilities in the pursuit of knowledge. I must say, I have to agree with his evaluation.”

James smirked at the twisted backhanded compliments coming from Dumbledore. Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the older wizard behind the desk but he smiled serenely. Harry sat there trying to work out everything quicker than Hermione and knowing that he was failing at that.

“Headmaster, I know of the problems that Harry has with his relatives. Every summer he comes back starved and hurt and without his homework done as well as I know him to be capable of because of what they make him do for them and what they deny him. They treat him like their own personal slave and punching bag and I’ve had well enough of it. When he lost Sirius, that was too close to a breaking point for someone I love and I had to do something!”

Her voice had risen along with the heat in her eyes. Harry grabbed her hand to calm her, but she was off and running.

“The muggle child services would have called it abuse! I don’t know how they didn’t catch it. My parents are mandated reporters, just like every school nurse, clinician and social worker. They don’t live in Surrey, so they couldn’t have reported it – not on the few minutes they’ve met Harry at King’s Cross. Harry has too much to do in this life with a madman chasing after him, trying to get through Hogwarts, the fickle nature of the magical world, the yearly life-threatening events…”

“And you, love…” he murmured. She smiled and went on.

“And me,” she amended softly before her voice got stronger. “And I won’t stand for it any longer. Harry and I found ourselves sorted into the House of the Brave, the Lions, and he’s been brave his whole life to face all the challenges that he didn’t ask for and still come out on top. For those things that he can’t be brave for, the heartaches, the pain, the things that try to tear him down and destroy him, that’s what I’m for. I’m going to be brave for him when he can’t be, strong when he can’t be, and I will carry him when he can’t stand any longer!”

The fire raged in her eyes. There was applause from the women in the room, and McGonagall surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eye at the declaration from her young lioness. Harry didn’t bother hiding it and neither did Lily. Hermione didn’t rest on her statement and stared down the Headmaster.

“I researched, Professor. I knew that the two people that loved him more than I do, if only a infinitesimal fraction was his parents. He needed them for the support that they could provide him in this coming battle, and I researched. Magic is about intent, as everyone knows, and my intent was to help Harry!”

For a moment there was silence.

“I found the ritual of Quanot’s Tear and went from there. There were journals that Quanot wrote with his experiences with time and the knowledge that he amass. There were branches of magic that touched on things that we do today, but what struck me was that all of those things used a deep connection to Magic and the use of intent to work.

There was a journal left by a Centaurian researcher that Quanot was on good terms with, and that led to the use of the constellations and lunar proximity. The Moon affects the tides on the planet, as Muggle science knows, and the presence of the stars and other planetary bodies in our solar system have an effect on magic like the effect known in physics as the weak gravitational force.”

Lily was starting to nod, although the magicals in the room was looking a bit lost.

“So we started the ritual,” and she flushed yet again, “well, after some problems that I won’t go into, and Magic itself manifested and talked with us. It turned out that Voldemort’s attack in 1981 was subverted by not just the protection Lily gave baby Harry, but by something that I haven’t figured out yet to cause the specters of Death and Time to get very annoyed. The word ‘Horcruxes’ was put into my mind somehow, and it had to have been put there by the physical manifestation of Magic during the ritual.”

Dumbledore paled, but Hermione was too worked up to notice.

“Magic itself blessed our quest, well, Harry’s quest but I refused to let him do it alone and Magic noticed that. There was agreement that he needed more, and the review of the loss of James and Lily found that the natural order of Life and Death had been corrupted in their cases.”

Everyone sat up. This was news.

“I don’t know all the details since it _is_ Magic, after all, and the workings of the magical universe is beyond even me…”

Harry snorted. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Hermione elbowed him into silence and went on.

“… but Magic laid a charge before us to get rid of Tom Marvolo Riddle. To do that, Magic determined that my purpose in bringing back James and Lily made absolute sense and that there was no arguing about that…”

James snorted this time. “I hope Harry remembers those words about her purpose, absolute sense and no arguing in the future.”

Lily grinned at him. “You would do well to do that yourself, dear. Set the example for Harry.”

Hermione hadn’t noticed the byplay, but McGonagall had. She shot a self-satisfied look at the Headmaster, who sighed again.

“… and we found ourselves quickly surprised by the presence of James and Lily. I got the distinct feeling that Magic had been waiting for the right opportunity to start correcting some errors.”

Hermione fell silent and everyone stared at her.

“What?”

Harry shook his head.

“Never change, Hermione. Never change. Somebody’s got to keep ourselves on our toes.”

Dumbledore scratched under his beard.

“Indeed! This is quite a piece of magical work! Fifty points to Gryffindor for research and loyalty, Miss Granger. Simply astounding.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And I assume that there was an observer present?”

“Yes, sir. As it happens, it was one of the centaurs. The daughter of Professor Firenze. She was very pleased to see the ritual and its results. She congratulated Harry quite effusively.”

Everyone saw Harry blush and most wondered what that meant among all the other blushes that he had suffered from so far. James sniggered. He had a pretty good idea.

“Just so. Perhaps I should ask Firenze to pass along word to his daughter…” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Hermione, silently asking for a name.

“Kateira, sir.”

“… Kateira, to visit the castle. Getting a first-hand account would be quite useful. Oh, not that I’m doubting your word, Miss Granger, not a bit! A second or even third point of view often helps answer questions that haven’t arisen yet. However, we have strayed afield from our original purpose. Meaning, how do we identify the two people before us?”

There was an irritated grumble from the shelf across the room. Everyone turned to look at the Sorting Hat.

“I swear, with every year you must be getting more senile and want to hear yourself talk more and more. The answer is very simple, Headmaster. Put me on their heads. I’m a magical artifact and can more easily detect the presence of Magic.”

Chagrin swam easily through the sea of silence. Harry spoiled that by laughing.

“Of course! The Hat’s Occlumency abilities surpass anyone alive.”

He stood up and reached up to gently take the Sorting Hat from the shelf.

“Hello, old friend. I’m sorry I don’t get to see you more often.”

“Understandable, Mister Potter. You have quite enough to be going on with as it is. I’ve been listening to this conversation. Trust me, it’s better than most of the things I hear in here. Put me on your head first, then Miss Granger’s. In defiance of my usual routine, I will be speaking my thoughts aloud to the room.”

“Um… okay.” He looked around the room first. Hermione nodded.

The Hat’s ancient felt sat easier on his head now than it had as an eleven year old. He felt a trickle at his mind, something that he wouldn’t have as a firstie. This was a welcoming feeling, one of friendship that abided through the years. Harry was pretty sure that the Sorting Hat truthfully had plenty of years.

“Yes, Mister Potter, I do. Now shut up and let me think.”

Various snickers and snorts came from the room. James poked Lily and pointed at Hermione, who didn’t notice. Lily rolled her eyes at him.

“Ahhh, still quite a mind. I know, I know… you didn’t want Slytherin but I still say they would have helped you on the path to greatness, but you seem to have done that yourself where you were. Wearing the green and silver would have set the Kneazle among the pixies and been very entertaining.”

James choked. Slytherin?

“Yes, it’s all here, your trials in life. None of those are as important as Miss Granger, I would say. Hmmph. You’re well-matched. On the way to greatness, yes, but not without Miss Granger beating you over the head when you needed it. Hmmph. I foresee plenty of headaches for you, Mister Potter, unless you learn to shut up and let her think.”

Hermione hid her face in her hands at Harry’s scandalized look.

“You know it’s true,” the Hat continued.

He did, actually.

“Ahhhhh, I see the interaction with Magic. Yes… yes, indeed you have quite the accomplishment. Maybe you can listen. That path to greatness is growing ever closer by the minute, Mister Potter. The Castle and I both look forward to seeing what happens next. Now, put me on Miss Granger’s head.”

He took the Hat off and walked it over to where she sat, and lowered it over her curls. Everyone heard the Hat sigh happily. It was so unexpected that everyone stared for a bit.

“Yes, I knew it then, Miss Granger. Such power and strength of mind as a young child, ever-increased as you got older. It complements the power and strength of character of your bonded mate.”

Heads jerked around at that pronouncement. Hermione almost shook the Hat off her head in surprise. Lily and James stared at each other, then at Harry. He shrunk down, trying to be invisible.

“H-Hat? Bonded… mate?”

“Oh, don’t be so surprised, Miss Granger. Or maybe I _should_ be calling you Mrs. Potter. During the ritual, which I can see right here, Magic did much more than judge your purpose.”

“W-what else?”

“It seems that Magic noted that you came together in one purpose, not ‘cleaved together,’ but presented yourselves with the need to accomplish something that desperately needed to be done. Magic is not pleased with the loss of those Gifted to use the mystical energies we call magic which were Bestowed upon them, due to this conflict and the one years ago. Therefore, those who are willing to do something about that problem, as are you and Mister Potter, are to be provided with what you require. Strange…”

The Hat trailed off, muttering to itself in such a fashion that even Hermione couldn’t hear what was being said.

“Hat?”

“Oh, yes, my dear. My apologies. It appears to me that there is possibly more to be provided to the four of you at a later date, but what that is I have no way of divining that. That hasn’t been revealed to either myself or the Castle. Hogwarts herself is curious.”

There was a lull as the Hat seemed to be thinking more and no one wanted to interrupt. Everyone looked at each other but no one said anything. The silence stretched on.

“Oh, that ruddy bastard!”

The shout startled everyone, Dumbledore included. Before anyone could speak, the Hat went on in an angry voice.

“Horcruxes! More than one! More!”

Dumbledore paled again and Hermione was beginning to wonder if it would be safer to take the pissed-off Hat and put it on the desk to cool off when it calmed down.

“Oh, relax girl. I have been given the outline of a plan, thanks to my link to Magic. Put your hand into my crown.”

She took the Hat off and thrust her hand inside. She felt something cold hit her hand and grasped carefully. Everyone was surprised when she pulled out a flanged mace with sapphires and a distinctly blue shaft. They all gasped as the mace glowed in her hand and they could feel the pull on their magics.

“Give me to Mister Potter. Mister Potter, you do the same thing.”

Harry had some idea about what was going to happen, since he had done something like that before, actually. He felt inside the Hat, who sneezed.

“Sorry. I’m allergic to the peppers you had for lunch. Wash your hands next time, will you?”

“Er… sure. I thought I had.”

Harry didn’t mention that he wasn’t quite sure when or if the next time would come and the thought of the Hat having an allergy threw him for a bit. He felt a similar cold object. Harry could see that the Sword of Gryffindor was in its display case, so what was this? Breaths were held until he drew out a very odd and long hammer of some kind.

At first, he thought it was something like a Monopoly piece – a tiny replica of something real – but once it cleared the confines of the Hat, it changed. There was a whining noise and a flash of light, and the object in his hands wriggled and expanded itself into something almost as tall as he himself. Harry tried not to drop it in his surprise, and just barely managed that.

It was adorned with a series of green gemstones that he was pretty sure wasn’t like any emeralds he had ever seen before. Harry wasn’t sure that they were emeralds to begin with, so maybe he was looking at some other green-colored stone. It had a spike on the top and a curved tail opposite a thick hammer head, mounted on a shaft made of some kind of hardwood. Dumbledore sat up in surprise when he saw this.

“That’s Nehemiah’s Beak!” He turned quickly to look at the mace in Hermione’s hands. “If the Beak has appeared after so long, then that could be Arnhild’s Mace!”

Everyone glanced at him. Even with the recent surprises piled on top of the Headmaster, it had been a long time since anyone had heard that note of astonishment from him.

Harry summed up the thoughts of the confused group.

“Er… what?”

“It’s quite simple, Mister Potter. You’ve been charged, along with Miss Granger, to be Magic’s Hands of Justice.”

They gaped at him, baffled. The Hat stiffened and a low moan came from it.

“What is it?” Dumbledore’s voice was wary.

“There’s been a change in the flow of Magic. Someone has done something evil!”


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

“AAAAAA-chooo!”

The bookcase blew apart as the sneeze rocketed out from the figure in the chair. A negligent wave of a hand repaired it and the books within the wooden confines stitched themselves together. The other hand picked up a warm mug of chicken noodle soup and sipped it down. The wizard set the empty mug down and glared at it as it refilled itself. The mug was uncaring of the glare.

He hated chicken noodle soup, since that was all there was in the orphanage some days. He’d never forgotten that and every time it was served at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle had shunned it. Strangely though, it helped him in his current affliction.

Voldemort sniffled, feeling the frustration of having caught a cold somehow. It was an indignity, but at least it wouldn’t last long. The Death Eater that had the most experience in healing had looked him over and took a few readings, then told him that it was most likely a side effect of some ritual or so it appeared to him. It was something that he’d seen before when he worked at St. Mungo’s before he was dismissed for fooling around with the patients. What ritual, he didn’t know and didn’t care what, but it was something that happened sometimes especially with the older types of rituals. Feedback from the magical energy merges that came with those would sometimes temporarily knock a magical core off balance and let a wizard get sick. The more recent rituals had been designed to filter out that feedback and prevent sickness.

Voldemort had raised an eyebrow. The man wasn’t afraid to tell him things like that, even if he got _crucioed_ and the Dark Lord was impressed with that. A few more questions and he was told that magical interventions like potions would just make things worse for him, but luckily it would pass in a night or two when his magical core settled down. In the meantime, rest and eat soup and crackers. Stay hydrated. Don’t over-exert himself. If he got constipated, let him know and he would see what he could do. That happened sometimes, too. The man had looked him straight in the eye without flinching as he spoke with the authority of his previous posting, too.

The man had left and Voldemort was surprised, but it really was sound advice. Maybe it was time to advance that one in the organization. There never was enough good help, he’d found.

So with that in mind, Voldemort was looking over some of his plans since he had to follow Healer’s orders. He snorted. The most powerful Dark Lord in history, laid low because of sniffles and constant mucus. Lovely.

There was no one to disturb him by his order and that allowed him to get work done. There was a great deal of parchmentwork to deal with. He’d never thought that being a Dark Lord mean he’d have to do that, but sure enough there was. Since he couldn’t go out and risk getting himself sicker, he resigned himself to his work. He wondered how much of this Dumbledore had to put up with.

He sneezed again. From somewhere in the building, there was the sound of breaking glass, a heavy thump and rumble and a scream. He heard someone yell, “Tim! Oh shit. Somebody help me here!”

Wondering what happened to whoever this Tim was, he listened. Anything other than this desk work.Other voices responded soon along with several pairs of boots.

“What happened?”

“He tripped over something and knocked over the display table with those knives on it!”

“What? Not the cursed blades? Damn it. We worked all night on those fucking things. Did he cut himself? I hope not since he’s already lost whatever got cut.”

There was a sudden caterwauling noise, presumably from this Tim. It cut off after a moment. Somebody must have cast a _Silencio_ at him.

“Oh. Oh damn. I can’t blame him for screaming his head off.”

“What? I can’t see. You’re in the way.”

“Poor bastard won’t need a wife now.”

Silence. Voldemort grinned. That’ll teach him not to be so clumsy. The voices went on.

“Well, what about that hand?”

“What about it? It’s not like he can rub one out with it now?”

“No I meant, how’s he going to pick up his wand with just that pinkie finger?”

There was a moment of silence as whoever was speaking apparently was thinking about his answer. Voldemort wondered if this Tim was listening, too.

“He’ll figure it out, then he can worry about his wooden wand. Look there. It’s laying right there, all shriveled up.”

“Wooden wand… oh, I see. Wood doesn’t shrivel like that. Poor bastard.”

Voldemort heard a crunching noise next.

“Hey watch out!”

Another voice broke in.

“What?”

“Watch where you’re putting those clodhoppers! Oh, never mind. It’s not like we’ll be able to reattach that anyway, even if you did just scrape that glass all over it. That’s all sliced up like Penny’s carrots.”

“Ugh. Yuck. Thanks, I was hungry until you said that.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, what do we do about Tim? He’s out like a light.”

“Take him to the ward. Everything got cauterized by those cursed blades. Well, except for that nub there. I didn’t know that cauterization did all that green color. Who put them there, anyway?”

“Will did. Why?”

There was another pause.

“Will Forman?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“What?”

There was another pause. Voldemort could hear another shuffle and some scraping as the poor bastard was dragged off. The other voices continued.

“Hey, don’t leave me in suspense. What about Will?”

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but he said that Tim’s wife put the word out that she was putting out for whoever cut Tim’s shady dick off.”

There was an audible cringe, and Voldemort idly debated if this wife would be willing to enforce discipline for him. Tim apparently was no problem for her anymore. He made a mental note to find out as the voices faded away. He sneezed again, heard a pained yelp from somewhere, and wondered who suffered a misfortune this time. In the meantime, he had some letters to write and nothing else to do other than get over this damned cold.

He sneezed again and coughed for good measure before taking another sip of chicken noodle soup.

“ _Gah!_ I hate chicken noodle soup with a passion!”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Ron Weasley was wondering what was going on. He hadn’t seen Harry or Hermione for more than a few minutes over the last few days and was starting to wonder. Of course, the coursework that they had to deal with this year explained some of the absences but it was still odd.

Maybe they had stopped dancing around each other and admitted to each other what everyone else knew. Since he was part of the Golden Trio, or whatever everyone else called it now, he could see it. Hermione wasn’t really his type since they fought like cats and dogs and she wasn’t too crazy about most of the things he liked. Okay, he admitted to himself that he instigated the fights they had for pure entertainment value, but Ron knew he had to be careful about it. She knew some absolutely vicious curses and wouldn’t be adverse to teaching them to Ginny for payback.

He shuddered at the memory of the one that adhered an unmelting pouch-shaped block of ice around his testicles. That had been bad. What was worse when she intimated that he needed to look up the process of making steers. Hermione had mentioned that transfiguring the ice pouch into a tiny rubber band after an hour would be simplicity itself.

After reading about steers, he decided to leave her alone for a week. Instead, he had somebody give the book to Malfoy. The results of that was truly heartwarming, if not ball warming. He’d never seen Malfoy actually squeak like that before. Maybe he should rile Hermione up more and point her at the blond Slytherin. Then again, riling Hermione up might not be the safest thing for him. He grimaced at thoughts of other things he’d seen her do.

Still, this reminiscing wasn’t answering the question of where the pair were. He decided that there was really only one thing to when in doubt. Ron got up and headed for the library. It had worked before, since everyone knew that anyplace where books were kept would be were Hermione Granger would be.

It made sense to him and he congratulated himself for that insight. It wouldn’t take but a moment once he got there to find her. There was only one place in the library that she sat, as he and possibly everyone else in the castle but for most of the first-years knew. The table in the back with the waiting chair that looked like it had held centuries of rear ends. It apparently was quite comfortable, but no one else had the opportunity to try it if she was here. He turned the corner.

“Oi! Hermione! I’ve been looking for you all… Hermione?” He looked at the chair.

Oddly, she wasn’t there. Ron stopped, nonplussed. This was a first.

“Okay. This is strange.”

“What’s strange?” It was one of the Gryffindor fourth years.

Ron turned to face her. She was peering at him with a frown on her face, probably wondering what possessed him to willingly go anywhere but the Quidditch pitch or the Great Hall for food.

“I was looking for Hermione, but she’s not here.”

The fourth year pondered for a moment. He was starting to get impatient with her regard of his face.

“I think she was in the Great Hall when I passed by twenty minutes ago.”

_What? It’s not meal time yet, or did I miss it? Why would she be in the Great Hall of all places, when she could be in the library?_

He squinted at the younger girl.

“What about Harry? Did you see him?”

“No. I haven’t seen him for a few hours.”

Nodding at the girl, he took off for the Great Hall. She watched him go, wondering what was going on. She decided she would find out later through the grapevine. He didn’t seem to be in the know about his two friends any more than she did, which made her think there was something juicy going on with the Golden Trio. The fourth yearthought about that for a moment. Maybe she could shake some bushes and see what fell out. Homework could wait for another time as she turned around to sneak after him down the corridor.

Behind them under a Notice-Me-Not spell, a pair of cold eyes watched the doors to the library close. A few moments passed before the watcher eased out of the chair and left the library as well. Had there been anyone to observe this, they would have seen an unsettling expression of overweening contempt follow the pair that had just left. The watcher sneered at the retreating back of the fourth-year, then turned and set off in the opposite direction.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

The silence in the room after the Sorting Hat’s announcement was broken after a moment by Dumbledore. He waved his wand around in a square pattern toward the floor.

“ _Malum est manifestum, malum umbra, malum est nidum revelatum!”_

For a moment, there wasn’t any reaction to the incantation that Dumbledore had uttered, but soon everyone else felt a prickling on their skin that turned into the feeling of tens of insects skittering everywhere. The tens turned into hundreds, which turned into thousands. Some of the insect-feelings were those of several varieties of ants, some were mosquitoes that started to collectively whine in their ears, and some had morphed into the feel of millipedes. Those had inexorably wended their way around ankles, thighs, trunks, arms, wrists, and necks – or so it felt.

The others started to slap at their skin, then scratch, then dig. There was no relieving what they felt and no idea why, other than whatever the old wizard was doing. The feeling persisted, and most looked up at Dumbledore. He didn’t seem bothered by the same sensations of tens of thousands of tiny insectoid legs marching over every inch of skin regardless of clothing, or by the incessant sound of the mosquitoes singing in thousand-part disharmony. If anything, he looked to be worried.

“ _Whit in th' nam ay aw that's holy ur ye daein', ye bapit auld cheil?”_ McGonagall shrieked at the top of her lungs as she scratched at her neck and danced around in agony. The others were in no better shape. They did their own scratching and dancing, and while they heard her question, no one was in any shape to listen for the answer.

Dumbledore dropped the spell. It was so abrupt that the others kept scratching for a bit before they realized that the sensations they had been suffering had dropped from them like a stone into a quiet pond. They looked around to see him drop heavily into his seat. The whine of the seat cushions was easily heard now that the insect-derived whines had ceased.

McGonagall speared the old wizard with the most severe look any of them had ever seen her give to anyone, even James.

“Noo whit was 'at?”

They all could tell how mad she was from the Scots in her voice. Everyone kept their mouths shut while they waited for the answer. Dumbledore didn’t say anything right away. He snatched the half-moon glasses off and scrubbed his pale face with his hands before answering. A twitch of his wand brought up a full tea service for everyone and surprisingly, a bottle of brandy on his desk.

Everyone eyed each other at the sight of the bottle. Without a word, Dumbledore tipped some of the brandy in everyone’s cup – even Harry’s and Hermione’s. This made the looks everyone was giving each other increase.

“I’m not saying anything until everyone drinks,” Dumbledore grunted. Everyone watched him quickly drink down the tea from his cup and refill it with more brandy-fortified tea. He drank that down, too and remained quiet.

Everyone shrugged, and drank. Harry winced at the feeling of getting slugged by the brandy, but seeing Hermione drink without reacting made him want to man up and not complain about it. There was silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of sips and slurps. The Sorting Hat grumbled to itself about not getting any brandy, but was ignored. After everyone else refilled their teacups with only tea, Dumbledore sighed.

“I do suppose I should start.”

Silence greeted his statement and he grimaced, but continued on.

“I apologize for that unpleasantness, but it’s been a very long time since I used that particular incantation and I forgot the side effects.”

McGonagall speared him with a look in her eye that delivered a silent promise, and he shuddered inwardly. Gamely, he continued, hoping to lessen the punishment. She could be vicious, and from the look he was getting from Miss Granger, so could the younger girl. The look he was getting from Lily didn’t help. Absently, he wondered how Harry was going to handle it when he invariably got into trouble now.

“The spell searches for and reveals the presence of what we define as mal-intent: the intention to harm someone or engage in wrongdoing. However, it ignores the low-level things like scuffles or bullying or petty theft, such as what we know to be here in any school full of children.” He sighed. “No, this is intended to find the magical mental exertions behind evil acts beyond a certain level.”

“Certain level?” This came from James, and Dumbledore raised a shaggy eyebrow at him.

“The majority of activities that groups like the infamous Weasley Twins – or the more infamous Marauders – don’t apply.”

James did his best to look angelic. Lily rolled her eyes at him while Dumbledore went on.

“No, things like the activities of the Death Eaters in their evil ways or their forerunners, the Knights of Walpurgis. That group has ties much farther back than Grindelwald, centuries even. I’ll leave specifics to your own self-study, should you which to look into it. In this case, the spell revealed to me that there’s something on the edges of the Grounds that has been used for a dark ritual.”

“What? On the Grounds?” McGonagall’s voice was shocked. “But the wards -”

“The wards should have snuffed it out, but there’s a section of the wards that hid something that shouldn’t be there. I just found it.”

“What?”

Hermione spoke up.

“Headmaster, are you saying there was a ‘backdoor’ to the wards? Something put into place to keep everyone out except people who know about it, like computers with compromised security?”

Lily’s eyes narrowed, following the younger witch’s thoughts. “And something magicals would see similar to a Fidelius charm with Secret-keepers?”

Dumbledore sighed. “Just so, although what precisely a ‘computer’ is and how it applies here I really couldn’t say.”

There was a frisson of chills that ran through the room at the thought of Hogwarts’ wards – some of the oldest and strongest in Magical Britain – being compromised.

Madame Pomfrey spoke up. “Albus, shouldn’t there be a way to close that up? Suture it, so to speak?”

Dumbledore started to disagree, then stopped abruptly. His face wrinkled up with a new thought.

“Hmm. There may be a way. I will think about it.”

Madam Pomfrey grimaced.

“I don’t know that I’m comfortable with the possibility of such a weakness in the wards that would cause a breach. There are students to consider and I don’t want to risk the possibility of injury to them from malicious unknowns.”

Dumbledore frowned.

“Quite so. I have to agree. In the meantime we are here for another purpose.”

He looked at James and Lily Potter, and the forgotten weapons in the hands of the younger members of their gathering. The Hat harrumphed.

“It’s about time, Albus.”

“Yes, yes. The older I get, the more senile I become,” Dumbledore sighed.

“Among things, but who’s counting?” The Hat’s snickers was echoed around the room. The Headmaster sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

“So, what are your thoughts, Sorting Hat?”

Harry thought that the gouges that represented the Hat’s eyes narrowed impressively. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that this was an old game that Dumbledore and the Hat played with each other. It lead to another thought, wondering what went on in this office when no students were around. From the look on the faces of his parents, they was wondering the same thing.

The Hat harrumphed again.

“Are you getting more daft by the day from all those lemon drops? I’m a Hat! Put me on their heads!” The rest of the grumbles faded off, but the others thought they heard something about being long overdue for a vacation. The problem was that no one knew who or what was being referred to as needing one.

Dumbledore tried hard to repress another sigh, but it managed to slip out to the Hat’s smug snickers. He looked at the elder Potters.

“Well, who would like to go first?”

Lily sat up.

“I will.”

McGonagall nodded and gently picked up the Hat to place it on Lily’s head. The moment that the Hat settled, there was a sound of surprise that caught everyone’s attention. Lily looked up at the Hat’s brim flopping over her flame-red fringe in a bit of awe.

_Well, well! **This** is quite a shock for me. You’re supposed to be dead, my dear._

Lily screwed up her face.

_Don’t remind me. I remember a lot of things from the other side and I never thought I would find myself here. Not after that night._

The Hat ruminated while everyone else waited to hear what the verdict was, not being able to hear the conversation between the two of them. All they had to rely on was the expression on Lily’s face.

_Hat? I’m worried about my son. He doesn’t look like he should. He’s… smaller… than I thought he’d be at this age._

There was a sigh from the Hat.

_Yes. I don’t yet know what you’ve seen from the other side, but give me a moment to look through your memories. As for young Mister Potter, during his time at school there have been a lot of adventures for him, you might say._

Another moment went by with another internal sigh from the Hat. Lily was wondering about the reference to ‘adventures,’ but before she could ask, the Hat spoke up.

_I can see that you’re Lily Potter, returned to us by some means of Magic that has something to do with Miss Granger and young Mister Potter. I’m still bound by my enchantments to keep the secrets of those placed on my head, but I will say this. That young lad needs his mother._

Lily’s eyes filled with tears, and everyone sat up as they fell.

_Hat? Who raised Harry?_

There was a moment of silence from the Hat.

_Alas, that’s part of the enchantment… unless…_

Lily’s eyes went wide at a whisper from the Hat, and she leaned forward. She quickly motioned for Harry to take her hand. He jumped up, leaving the odd hammer with Hermione and crossed the floor to her. James scooted over to make room for Harry in between himself and Lily, and she took Harry’s hand when he sat. James curled his arm behind them and held them close to him.

Minerva McGonagall wiped away the tears as quietly as she could at the sight. She heard a muffled sniffle beside her and turned to look at Madam Pomfrey. Neither said anything. They watched as James regarded Hermione and silently called her over too.

Lily smiled at the Hat’s mental snort, waiting patiently. Hermione slowly got up, leaving the weapons behind and sat on the floor between Harry’s legs, since there wasn’t any room on the couch. Harry’s free hand came to her shoulder, which she took and held before resting her cheek on it.

_Ah, good. My dear, the presence of the three of you – four, with Miss Granger – allows your magics to mesh, for the want of another word. Young Mister Potter and Miss Granger make a cute couple, don’t you think?_

Lily smiled.

_I do think so, and didn’t think you was such a busybody in the romantic lives of teenagers, Hat?_

A snort answered her.

_Please. After a thousand plus years in this castle? Between my observations and the castle’s, I could write a book. Besides, she’s good for him because he hasn’t had the best time with those Muggles and frankly he needs her, too. I can say that now, since the Parental link from your magic have established your identity and magical custody._

There was silence for a moment as the redhead thought about the Hat’s words, and everyone watching Lily saw her eyes narrow and light up. The fire in her eyes promised payback to someone, and Dumbledore shifted uneasily. James felt her stiffen up, and the two teenagers between them were confused. James, with more experience with Lily, could tell something had pissed her off. He started to speak but was interrupted by the Hat’s gruff voice.

“Switch me to the other one! Quick, before she blows!”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow but yanked the hat off Lily’s head. Harry’s confusion increased, and he’d felt Lily’s outrage but had no clue what happened. He turned to look at her as the Hat was settled on James’ head.

“Mum?”

She turned and hugged him to her as tightly as she could, her fit of pique shoved aside for the moment at Harry’s call. She whispered into his ear.

“My baby boy. I love you so much. We need to talk, but know this. I love you so very much and I’m so sorry I had to leave you.”

Tears fell from their eyes as the Hat and James Potter held their conversation. James was not sure what had happened with Lily, but now that it was his turn with the Hat he had to demonstrate a little Potter swagger. It was the least he could do to identify himself to the Hat.

_Hello, Hat! Looong time, no see! Met any cute bonnets lately? Got any precious little berets running around yet?_

The Sorting Hat would have facepalmed. Unfortunately, without actual hands that wasn’t possible. At least now it was quite sure who _this_ was. No doubt at all.

The Hat harrumphed while James grinned.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

There was a quiet moment in the castle. A stocky young man walked into the castle, brushing dirt from his arms. It had been a very productive session in the greenhouses and he’d gotten quite a bit of work done for a thesis. Professor Sprout had mentioned something offhand in a class, and he wanted to do a little research on a thought that had struck him. It panned out and the thesis practically was done but for the actual writing. It meant getting dirty, but that was no big deal for him.

He paid no real attention to the alcoves to either side in the corridor, since after a few years they became part of the background. Granted, anytime someone was in one for whatever reason, it caught his attention – especially when it was an ambush of some kind. The Weasley Twins had rejoiced in setting up pranks in that manner before everyone caught on.

Then again, so did the bullies and their endeavors were not the same thing as the Twins’ pranks. Those usually lead to time in the tender tortures of Madam Pomfrey.

He stopped for a moment, his senses caught by something that he didn’t recognize. It seemed… well, it seemed odd, if only something he hadn’t known before. Something in his head woke up and started to scream for attention. His brow furrowed and his wand came out in a flash.

“Who’s there?”

His voice was harder than most people would have expected. He listened hard for a response. He started to repeat his demand when the faint answer came.

“N-Neville?” The tremulous sob of his name was filled with pain. Neville’s eyes widened. That voice belonged to someone he knew well.

“Luna?”

The only answer to him was a weak, wavering moan and a slow, thin trail of blood appeared before his eyes.

“...help...”


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

“Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s a bit crowded in here, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.”

The first person had just had the displeasure of having his toes trampled by a young man trying to get what looked like a fairly heavy box down the corridor and it seemed it was the young man’s luck that others was pushing him aside to move quicker.

“One side, bean-counter!”

“That’s Census…” the young man muttered, as he found himself shoved up against the wall in the narrow corridor. A wince escaped him as a corner of the box dug into his belly, and the first man took pity on him.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

“Thanks. This box is heavy.”

It took a moment but soon they had opposite ends.

“Damn. This thing _is_ heavy.”

“Toldja,” the man puffed. Neither spoke for the exertion of carrying the box until they shuffled into one of the many offices in the Ministry. When the box thumped down, they heard a _crack_ from the desk. They cringed.

“I hope Arthur doesn’t notice that. Thanks for the help,” the younger man said as he extended his hand. “I’m Billy Newton.”

“Fionn McCartan, lad. Glad to meet ye. Call me Fionn. What’s in that thing? That’s a pretty damn heavy box.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance, too. And I don’t have a clue – the thing appeared out of thin air with what sounded like a bunch of harps.”

McCartan raised his eyebrows.

“Harps? You don’t say. A magical manifestation?”

“Seems so, but I haven’t been able to open it. I can’t go anywhere without it. _Anywhere._ ”

If his eyebrows hadn’t already gotten raised, he would have done it.

“You mean…?”

“Anywhere, and believe me, it makes going to the loo a real adventure. It follows me like a puppy and jumps in my lap anytime I sit down.”

Taken aback, McCartan had to ask.

“How do you handle the weight?”

A disgusted sound was his only answer. McCartan started to leave but there was a distinct whine from the box. He looked at the younger man.

“Don’t ask me. I’m apparently just the caretaker.”

A shrug from the older man and he turned to leave again, only to be met with a rattle from the box.

“It did the same thing to me. Maybe you’re the caretaker of the thing now.”

Billy Newton stepped away to the threadbare couch across the room but the reaction of the box was the same as McCartan had just found out. They traded glances.

“Um, Fionn, do you have any idea why that box would be doing that?”

“None.” Looking around, he took in the office. “Arthur, you said. Arthur Weasley? I didn’t think he worked in any kind of magical manifestation office. Muggles, wasn’t it?”

“Yes or at least I thought so, but for some reason I was lead to come here. There was some kind of parchment – well, it was finer than regular parchment – that simply said ‘Arthur Weasley.’ Why, I really don’t know, and when I wrote to him he didn’t either. He suggested bringing the thing here and he’d meet me. Well, us now.”

“Oh. I guess we wait, then.”

McCartan leaned against the desk and looked down at the box. The rattling had shifted it around a bit and he could see a distinct crack on the surface of the desk. They waited and watched the minute hand of the clock meander. It seemed to them that the silence in the office just made the thing go slower and slower and slower.

“Well, where is he?”

“Maybe he stepped out for a moment. I don’t know what he does all day but it’s Arthur. He stays busy. You know how this place is.”

A grunt answered that.

“Well, that’s true. Of course, it would be our luck if he decided to take an long lunch today.”

A few more minutes went by before the door opened. Arthur Weasley stepped through, an overstuffed file folder in his hand. He looked up to see the two men. Both looked back at him, one with an irritable expression that he was pretty sure wasn’t directed at him and the other with an amused expression. He was fairly sure that wasn’t directed at him, either.

“Oh, hello! I was going to take a long lunch break today, but remembered that I had a meeting now. Fionn, right? What brings you here? And I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

McCartan grinned.

“Sorry, Arthur, I’m just the hired muscle today. Billy here came to see you with a heavy box. Seems you might know a bit more than we do.”

Recognition dawned.

“Oh, right! I remember now. You had the box that showed up out of nowhere.” Arthur looked at the box, placidly resting on the desk. “Is this it?”

“That’s it.”

Arthur walked around the desk, looking at the box. He glanced at the crack and Billy winced.

“Sorry, Arthur.”

“No biggie. I’ve been waiting for a good reason to requisition a new desk since this one was probably made a hundred years ago using the cheapest materials they had at the time. I know how you bean-counters are.”

Billy sighed. “I work in Census, Arthur, not Procurement.”

“Oh, sorry. You still do counting, right? What’s the difference?”

Fionn started to say something, but stopped when he saw a mischievous gleam in Arthur’s eye. He shook his head and didn’t say anything. Frankly, if he opened his mouth he would bust out laughing at the look on the youngest face in the room. It took him a good moment but eventually he was able to pretend to take pity on poor benighted Billy.

“Aye, lad, enough of the jokes from we old men, eh? Think we can open up this demon box?”

“The word ‘demon’ isn’t all that reassuring to me, you know,” Billy muttered under his breath, but he stepped back a bit to let Arthur look at it. The older man frowned at it for a moment.

“Billy, I’m pleased you trust me enough to come to me, but I have to ask ‘why me?’ I don’t see how the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office helps here like your message mentioned. Besides, I work in a different office now, remember?”

Arthur didn’t mention that there was an office for anything. They all knew there was probably an ‘Office for Naming Ministry Offices,’ an ‘Office for Detailing Paint Schemes,’ and an ‘Office of Silly Walks.’ Much speculation had been had over the possible offices under the Ministry’s overview.

“Not the office, per se, which I did forget you’d changed jobs. I meant you, specifically. You have an interest in Muggle puzzles, right? Aren’t there puzzle boxes that the Muggles use to hide things?”

Arthur wasn’t quite sure that owning various batteries and plugs had anything to do with puzzle boxes, but he could see what the younger man meant. Although after whatever this thing was got figured out, maybe he could branch out into something else. It sounded like something Fred and George would do. He grinned at the thought. Arthur was proud of his prankster sons, even if he didn’t quite say that too loud around Molly or her sharp hearing.

“Well, let’s see if there’s a way to puzzle out how to open it, shall we?”

“Please do, Arthur. I’d really like to go to the loo without company.”

The aggrieved sound in the young man’s voice made Fionn nearly laugh, but he held it in. It was a near thing, and he didn’t thing Billy boy would appreciate the humor all that much. For that matter, he was starting to wonder if he was going to have to put up with company too.

Arthur noticed the parchment with his name on it and picked it up. The face of the parchment morphed into some simple instructions on how to open the box, so Arthur took a moment to lay the parchment back down flat and read it. His fingertips brushed the surface of the box as he did so. The box shivered on the desk, and everyone watched as the crack grew a little longer. Arthur jerked his hand back and the box rattled more.

“Arthur, it didn’t seem to like it when we got further away.”

“Oh? Wonder why?”

The Weasley patriarch held his hand closer to the box and watched as it stilled. He pulled his hand away. He noticed that the box wriggled more – it actually jiggled like one of Molly’s softer desserts.

“Huh. That’s odd.”

“Yes, I agree, but what do we do?” Fionn’s voice was puzzled.

“I have no –” Arthur’s voice was interrupted by a polite knock from inside.

“Did something just...”

Glances were exchanged for a moment before another polite knock was heard.

“Do we open it?”

Arthur thought quickly to Billy’s question. He shrugged.

“Sure, why not. What’s the worse that could happen?”

He reached for the lid and lifted it open.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“Lils?”

It had soon been decided that everyone needed a breather, Harry and Hermione the most. They were seriously flailing away at the task of staying awake and failing miserably. Madam Pomfrey had given them a phial of Dreamless Sleep and orders to eat something before they took it. It only took a couple of medical-grade glares before they slowly trundled off to their beds, practically holding each other up. Lily had kissed Harry good night, which made him cry again, and hugged Hermione closely for a moment before shooing them off. Professor McGonagall had quietly detailed a house elf to make sure they ate. The others watched as they walked off hand-in-hand.

In the meantime, Dumbledore had arranged for a set of Lords’ Quarters to be made ready for the magically-returned couple for the evening and now they were cuddled up in the bed. Neither felt particularly romantic at the moment and both felt all kinds of confused. Lily turned to look up at James’ troubled eyes.

“Do you feel like you’ve been hit with a Bludger, or is it just me?” he murmured.

Lily shrugged.

“I don’t know what I feel like, aside from very confused.”

“Me, too. Past very confused, if we’re being honest.”

It was quiet for a moment until she felt a tear drop onto her head.

“James?”

He held her close and sudden sobs shook his body. Alarmed, she scrambled up and hugged him to her. She wondered what was the matter, since this wasn’t like James. It took a few minutes for him to weather the tempest.

“James? What is it?”

He dashed the few remaining tears from his eyes.

“I just remembered the last thing before waking up and seeing Harry and Hermione in that circle.” His eyes found hers and the despair in his eyes made her own widen. “The last thing I remember is throwing a lot of spells after yelling for you to take Harry and run. That and being brutally cut apart like so much tissue paper by that snake-faced bastard. I tried my damnedest to destroy him and keep him away from the two of you. I remember thinking, ‘not my family, you bastard’ and slinging every nasty spell I could think of with as much power as I could.”

Her fingertips flew to her lips and her own memories played in her mind. She wept, and the feeling of his strong arms around her let her release everything. Just as she’d held him, he was now holding her.

“I… I t-told him to t-take me and not H-Harry… The last thing I remember is an _Avada Kedavra_ sailing toward me, and I couldn’t stop it! I couldn’t protect Harry! I tried! I stayed between that bastard and Harry and wouldn’t let him get near my baby, but I failed, too!” she wailed.

James didn’t say anything. He just held her close. They stayed like that for a while, until she pulled away a bit. He released her, but watched closely. Lily carefully got out of bed and went to a side table looking for the elf-conjured pitcher of water charmed to refill itself and remain cold. She poured a glass and looked at James, who declined. The room was silent as she drank from the glass.

“I don’t know how I know,” she said. The confusion was there. He could easily hear it, since he had his own confusion.

“How you know what?”

“How did I know that the scrawny teenager I laid eyes on a few hours ago was my baby boy of fifteen months?”

He held his arms wide open, and she put her glass down to go to him. Her sniffles started again as she felt the love in his arms settle around her. His voice was reassuring and the trembles he could feel in her smaller form settled. She could hear the certainty in her husband’s voice soothing her as he spoke.

“Because there’s a bond between a mother and son. You carried him from conception to birth. Because you strengthened that bond with every breath, every kiss, every feeding, every nappy change, every cuddle, every song you sang to him before and after birth – everything, Lils. Everything you did as his mother made that bond unbreakable. I’m sure of that.”

He broke off for a moment, but she didn’t really notice. James thought about that and continued.

“And while I don’t know what exactly Hermione did with Harry in that ritual circle, I’d be more that willing to bet the Potter fortune that whatever brought us back cast around and found that ‘mother’s bond’ you have with Harry and in turn the marriage bond we have with each other. It pulled you though whatever that was and you pulled me with you.”

Her voice was tiny.

“And I need you with me.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“Always, sweetheart. I’ll always be here with you.”

There was more silence, and Lily seemed to be calming down some more. James could see his wife’s big brain starting to tick over some mental checklist or another, so he waited for her. It was something that he never got tired of seeing, assuming that he wasn’t the reason it was ticking and he wasn’t in trouble either for something he did or something that he didn’t.

“So what do you think about this girl with Harry? The Hat called her his bonded mate. First impressions?”

“First, I don’t have a clue about this bonding. Something to ask the Hat about – probably best you do that.” He didn’t admit why and went on quickly before she noticed. “As for her? She reminds me of you, honestly. Distinctive name, though.”

“That’s true. Something out of Shakespeare. It’s pretty cute to watch them interact.”

“Yes, I have to agree.” He did, too.

“And they obviously care about each other. She didn’t leave his side and looked pretty protective of him.”

“A lot. It’s like they were drawn together. Think they’re boyfriend and girlfriend, this bonding aside?”

“It sure looked like that to me, but you know what?”

“What?”

“As comfortable as they were with each other, I think they’ve been together for a while whether they knew it or not.”

She thought about that. A suspicious green eye rolled up to look at his hazel eyes.

“So, are you going to embarrass the snot out of them?”

“Of course.”

He gave her the angelic look again. A resigned sigh was his answer.

“Of course you are. Don’t do it for a while, okay? This whole thing is going to take some settling into and there’s something else that the Hat told me.”

The grim set to her jaw and the sudden tension in her body warned him that this wasn’t going to be a fun subject.

“About Harry?”

“About Harry.” Her lip quivered. “Oh, James! Our baby boy’s had a hard life!”

Suddenly she dissolved into more racking sobs. James didn’t know what the Hat had told her, and his own experience with the Hat had hacked the grumpy old artifact off. The Hat didn’t show him what Lily had been shown.

 _Maybe I leaped without looking again,_ he thought to himself. James wiped the tears from his beloved wife’s face and rocked her to calm her down. She hiccuped a time or two, but James waited, knowing that Lily wouldn’t say anything until she was ready. She was so quiet for a long enough time that he started to go to sleep.

“She was right.”

He managed not to jerk awake and betray that he was _thisclose_ to visiting ol’ Morpheus for a while.

“Who was right about what, Lils?”

She sniffled again but answered.

“The abuse Harry suffered. Hermione was right.”

At that, his heart dropped and his face grew cold. She sounded so miserable. James quickly thought back to the declaration Hermione had made and the fire in her eyes.

“What did she say, ‘starved, hurt, and without homework?’ Did the Hat give you details?”

She nodded quickly, but didn’t say anything. He sighed and held her closer.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me who I have to hex into phoenix guano.”

He kissed the top of her head again and through her tears, she told him.

“Petunia. Somehow he got sent to Petunia after… after that night. They abused him. The Hat showed me some of what they did to him, but didn’t want to show me everything. He’s been beaten unconscious, had his bones broken, starved to the point of malnutrition, made to work like a house-elf…” She choked and the sobs came.

“ _What?!”_

There was moment of disbelief. James rocked Lily again, trying to keep his own tears from flowing and doing his best to be strong for her to cling to. They remained that way for a while until James felt sure that more questions could be asked.

“Lily, what about Sirius or Frank and Alice or Remus?”

“I don’t know, James. The Hat didn’t say or maybe didn’t know. We have to find that out for ourselves.”

“Well, in the morning we need to start getting some answers. That’s my boy and I’ll be damned to hell and back again if a Potter gets treated like that.”

A jerky nod answered him.

“I’m so tired, James.”

“Then we need to rest. We’ll find out more later.”

James was about to drop off to sleep, when he heard Lily mumble to herself.

“Huh. ‘Hermione Potter…’ I wonder if they knew…”

 _Maybe it was time to see if Harry had The Talk yet,_ he thought to himself with a mental yawn as he pulled his wife closer to him. _For damn sure the Dursleys wouldn’t have done it._ _That’s another thing, too. They’ll…_

His thought was cut off as he finally dropped off into slumber.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Neville sat on a convenient bench in the hallway of the Hospital Wing. He’d been sitting here for a while and no one had been by to see him sitting there since they were desperately busy inside.His hands, arms, and chest was covered in Luna’s drying blood and he didn’t notice it. When he saw the trickle of blood, his wand had been out casting without a conscious thought. Somehow, he’d found where Luna had been hidden, broke the enchantment in a surge of power and got her to Madam Pomfrey. As he’d dashed there with her convulsing in his arms, the thought in the back of his mind was repeating over and over.

_She’s so light. There’s hardly anything to her. She’s so light. There’s hardly anything to her._

The pounding of his heart matched the disjointed memory of his feet pounding the ancient stone floors as he sprinted. He only dimly remembered a silent and wandless pulse of magic racing ahead on his path, slamming the heavy doors to Pomfrey’s domain open and sticking them to the walls. He absently noticed the inset windows shattering from the impact and repairing themselves as he streaked in with Luna.

The cries of pain coming from her had gotten weaker and weaker and her eyes were rolling up in her head as he put her on a bed as gently as he could. The last thing he could remember was the horrified gasp from a newly-returned Madam Pomfrey and a low moan and a rattle from Luna before the Matron hip-checked Neville out of the way. After that, he could remember the orders being barked to her assistants and not much else. Somehow, he’d wandered around until he found the bench and tumbled down on it as the adrenaline eased and he started to shake. He didn’t know who or what did that to Luna or if she was alive or dead. Somehow, he needed to know that.

There was something within him that cried out to know, one way or the other.

As he sat on the bench and shook, a determined part of his mind dictated mental orders that he’d find those answers. The resolution bolstered itself with the fury of an enraged bear and his face hardened as the ursine growls echoed in his mind and magic. Neville Longbottom was going to get to the bottom of this. If anyone thought otherwise, that was just too damn bad.

Since no one else was there and no mirrors or otherwise reflective surfaces was near, no one saw the hazel gleam of hard edged power flickering to brightness in his eyes. Inside the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey worked with all her ability, under Luna’s closed eyelids a soft silvery glimmer answered.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

In the castle, there was a silence that persisted away from the Common Rooms with the great majority of students there after curfew. A few of the more adventurous rule-breakers were elsewhere instead of in their beds. There weren’t many.

The few that were had been making furtive arrangements to set up some ‘equipment’ in a fairly far-flung classroom that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. This was fine with them, since they had been doing a little ‘extra-curricular’ study and found out a method to create some off-the-books libations, as they referred to it between themselves.

The only worry they had was the possibility of ghosts or portraits. They lucked out with no portraits in the general area where they were, just unmoving tapestries. A bit of Runes work took care of the ghosts, redirecting them away from the ‘Libation Suite.’

It had taken a bit of stealthiness, but they managed to rustle up enough materials to build a still. There was something they found in Muggle books called ‘moonshine,’ which confused them since it apparently had nothing to do with the lunar cycle. There was something called ‘proofs,’ which caused more confusion to the more capable Arithmancy students in their group. What did a theorem have to do with this?

They shrugged. They would figure it out as they went. There had been some argument about what number to use for this ‘proof,’ but since there were two Ravenclaws in the group anything less than one hundred was out of the question. Since ‘extra credit’ was a thing with them, they decided to just round off at a hundred and fifty and quit arguing about it.

The results had been… well, not eye-opening at the first sip. Since magical flames and some charms had kept everything running as smoothly as possible while unattended during classes, it was just a matter of checking the results of the ongoing process against the books they had smuggled in. That first sip of the clear liquid nearly knocked them flat, hence the ‘not eye-opening’ description. In fact, everyone was wheezing with their eyes screwed shut while the fruits of their labors burned its fervid way down.

Once they recovered from that, there was some debate about how to add some flavoring. Once that was decided, then there was a rather strong argument about what flavors. This argument was a little hard for some to follow, what with the slurred words and belches that would pop up for some reason. Still, apple pie, chocolate, and some two or three flavors of toffee were the winners.

There was some disgruntlement from a couple that had been lobbying for ‘pink bubblegum,’ but the others shouted them down. That was quickly stricken from the record of approved flavors.

Now, after a couple of months they were ready for a trial run. The shelves had dust rings where unbreakable-charmed jars had stood in formation to be filled, but were now empty. They had sold their efforts to others for their House parties, swearing them to secrecy. The little taster bottles they had taken with them had assured them of the others’ various silences. Strangely, the Hufflepuffs had made the suggestions of banana and coconut flavors for their product. That was duly noted.

Most of the group was there. Three of their number was away in evening detentions due to some misdirection needed for their little side project. Nobody bothered with minutes for their meetings, of course.

“Hey, Jim, what happened to the stir stick?”

“The last I knew, it was over in that corner.”

“It’s not there now.”

“Well, look around. Maybe somebody moved it when we sold our run.”

There was a few moments of silence. Jim went back to looking over the group’s order sheets. Apparently the test tastes had made this Muggle moonshine become popular. There was a soft _thump_ in one of the other rooms, which was ignored just then. One of the girls looked up.

“Jim, didn’t you hear that?”

“What?”

“That noise. It sounded like a thump. Didn’t Leo go that way?”

Jim huffed in irritation. He hated being interrupted when he was busy doing something.

“He might have knocked something over. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’s not the most graceful, you know.”

“That’s true. He’d fall out of his own casket at his funeral.”

Jim grimaced at the mental image, but it was true enough if the rolled eyes of the others were any indication. The girl fidgeted for a moment before speaking.

“Maybe I should check on him.”

“Yeah, go ahead, Kristen. You just want to snog him.”

The volunteer stepped out and Jim went back to his counting. A muffled scream broke his concentration and he dropped the book to run toward the scream. The other student remaining with him followed.

They collided at the doorway with the screaming girl. When they got up, trying to decipher the babbles coming from her, it was soon apparent what happened.

Leo lay in the oversized fermenter barrel as though he was enjoying a dip in a hot tub. However, there was no conceivable way he was relaxing. The missing stir stick was missing no longer, since they could see it rammed down his throat all the way to the tines. His arms floated in the mash as they followed the waves imparted by the circulating heat. Thick drops of blood punctuated the gently foaming surface of the pale yellow mash and some of the ghastly mixture trickled ever-so-slowly down the outside edges of the barrel. Leo’s eyes were wide in unseeing terror.

As they looked on in horror, they heard the door behind them slam shut. The wall sconces extinguished themselves and nothing they did would relight them. Before someone could remember to cast a _lumos,_ a flaming whipcord shattered every wand they carried. A malevolent face could be seen grinning at them in the flickers of light the cord gave off. Screams bounced off the walls after that.

Outside the Libations Suite, classes proceeded apace without any knowledge of what was happening. Professors asked questions and students gave answers. Lectures and practical classwork continued without the faintest of clues giving away anything that revealed what was occurring in those rooms. Far away, a pale hand caressed a glimmering carving of a snake and a nose-less face smiled. Things were proceeding as planned.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

// Long chapter, some violence.

The next morning there was a discreet knock on the door. James looked up as Lily stumbled blearily into the common room of the Lords’ Quarters.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

She nodded and waved to the door. He got up as she flopped down on the couch and tilted over on the overstuffed arm. At the door stood Professor McGonagall.

“Minnie! What a pleasure! You look the same as the last time I saw you!”

She rolled her eyes.

“You scamp. You saw me less than eight hours ago.”

“Like I said, the last time I saw you.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course, of course!”

He bowed her into the room. Lily had straightened up at the sound of McGonagall’s voice and was glaring daggers at James. The professor was hiding her amusement at the byplay with difficulty.

“Mister Potter…”

James held up his hand to stop her. His voice was serious.

“Minerva, you’ve known us long enough to call us by our first names. With the few things that we’ve learned about Harry last night, there’s only time for the barest of jokes.”

An eyebrow raised.

“A Marauder being sober?”

His lips twitched at the play on words, but he nodded.

“Where it concerns my son and his well-being, I can’t bring myself to be anything other than sincere. I know Lily is the same way. I don’t think you came here this morning just to check on us. Please, sit down. Tell us what we need to know.”

She looked him in the eye and saw not James the prankster, but Lord Potter. The look in his eye was a different kind of fire than what others had seen in Lily’s eyes, but it was no less deadly. Professor McGonagall looked deep into his eyes, then drew herself up and nodded in approval.

“Very well, James. As the days to come approach us, there will be problems to solve stemming from your return. I trust that you will not forget your first duty?”

“Definitely not.”

“Now, aside from that I have been asked if you will be taking breakfast in the Great Hall.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“What about our return? How will Professor Dumbledore explain it?”

Minerva rolled her eyes.

“The same way he does everything else. That damnable twinkle and talking around everything.”

“Oh. How silly of me to forget that. I’ve had some other things distracting me.”

She speared him with a patented McGonagall stare, number three. James couldn’t help but shuffle his feet a bit.

“Um, I mean, I see. We’ll have to work around that.”

“Very good… Mister Potter.”

James was astounded to see a slight smirk on his former professor’s face. He didn’t think it was even possible. He started to say something, but was interrupted by a light snore. They looked at the couch to see Lily flopped down on the cushions from the mostly seated position she’d taken when McGonagall arrived.

“I see that you have a rather dangerous job ahead of you. We have too much to do today to sleep. Young Mister Potter will quite possibly be here soon to see his parents without regard to sleep state. I wish you luck.”

James started to say something about having a lie-in, but she gave him a speaking glance and nodded to Lily before stepping toward the door. He hurriedly caught up and walked her to the door, thanking her for visiting. When the door closed, he turned to look at his beloved.

“Well, ‘faint heart ne’er won fair lady.’ Or maybe it should be that ‘abandon all hope’ quote. Or ‘into the valley of death rode the six hundred.’ Wait, why am I trying to find a quote when I know good and well she’s going to hex me for waking her up?”

He took a deep breath, metaphorically girding his loins, and tried not to think about actually girding his loins. James didn’t _think_ she would rip his family jewels off, but best to be prepared. He put the best loving, sweet, _gentle and coaxing_ note that he could into his voice. Maybe it would protect him.

If not, then maybe Poppy Pomfrey could put him back together again.

“Lily? Sweetheart, we need to get up. Breakfast time.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Harry woke up on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. He didn’t remember getting here or even going to sleep. There was an arrow propped up on the side table. He regarded that blearily, wondering what an arrow was doing in the Common Room but after a few minutes he remembered the note from one of the Centaurs. It took him a few more minutes of woolgathering but he managed to remember everything else that happened last night.

He looked around, nose full of Hermione’s scent and wondered where she was. They had tumbled down on the couch when they got to the Common Room and swore that it would just be a few minutes. It seemed to him that they must not have spent ‘just a few minutes’ on that couch. Harry’s side was still warm from being cuddled so Hermione must not have slept in her bed.

“Where is she, anyway?” he murmured to himself. His glasses was crooked on his face, so he straightened and struggled to his feet. The Ravenclaw blanket confused him more. He looked around for Hermione.

“Hello, sleepyhead!”

“Mphhh.” He took a breath and tried again. “Morning. Why is there a Ravenclaw blanket here?”

“Don’t know. It just showed up.”

He squinted at it, trying to wake up enough to figure this out.

“It’s got L-U-something on the edge.”

“Maybe it’s Luna’s. Although that doesn’t explain what it’s doing here.” She looked at him. “Better take a shower and wake up. Breakfast is soon. Hurry – Professor McGonagall wants us to meet her in her office before then.”

Harry looked at his girlfriend. She was indecently chipper and he felt like a rotted moss-covered log. How she managed to look so _alive_ this early in the morning was something that he never understood. She was almost always ready to beat the morning into wailing submission and he… was not. Maybe it was a girl thing.

He walked up the stairs to his bed with the blanket draped over his shoulders, uncaring about what others might think. If this really was Luna’s blanket, he would get it back to her. Until then, it would stay folded up on his bed. Considering how warm it was, it might take a day or two.

It didn’t take long to select his clothing for the day. Those were laid out on top of the folded blanket and he managed to get a short shower. Thankfully, Dean and Seamus hadn’t used up the hot water. Ron and Neville was still out in noisy dreamland, so he didn’t get interrupted. The water felt good. Thinking about Hermione during that ritual felt better.

When he turned the water off, he realized that he didn’t hear any snoring, so maybe Ron and Neville was awake. Harry shrugged. Neville probably woke up when Harry started making noise in the shower, banging around. Ron could sleep through anything, it seemed. Whatever made noise, it didn’t bother a sleeping Ron Weasley.

Mostly dried off and with his towel wrapped around him, Harry walked out to find Hermione sitting on his bed staring at him. He jumped and grabbed at the towel that almost fell off.

“Hermione? What are you doing up here?” he squeaked.

A sly grin answered him.

“Oh, relax, Harry. I’ve seen it all now, remember? I was hoping to see it again.”

His eyes grew wide and he stammered out, “B-but I thought w-we had to go see McGonagall…”

Hermione sighed.

“True.”

Harry looked over to Ron’s bed and saw that he was not there.

“Where’s Ron?”

“I threw him out. I told him he was a half-hour late for breakfast and most of it was gone already. He decided not to argue and left.”

Despite himself, Harry snickered.

“That would do it.”

Before Harry could say anything else, Hermione jumped up and threw her arms around him. Her arms trapped his at his sides, and she laid the biggest, wettest kiss on him that she could. He tensed up but soon relaxed into the kiss.

“You felt so good out there with me last night. Sooooo good,” she moaned into his ear.

His eyes widened even more when he heard the huskiness in her voice. His arms came up to hold her closer, but the moment he started moving, Hermione pounced.

The towel was snatched off with one hand and the other hand zoomed unerringly to firmly grip Little Harry, who’d expressed great interest in the Hermione thoughts from earlier. She gave him three quick strokes as she broke off the kiss and took off out of the room with Harry’s towel in an iron grip. She was out of range before he could react.

“Hurry and get dressed! McGonagall’s already waiting for us!” she caroled over her shoulder.

He stood there stark naked, mouth agape and groin aching, staring at the doorway she’d just disappeared through with the towel fluttering after her. She was going to be the death of him soon. He just knew it. How was he going to get dressed now?

Her voice came up to his ears from the Common Room.

“Haaaaaar-ryyyyy! Need help? It’s not that hard to get dressed is it?”

“Something’s hard, but it’s not the ‘getting dressed’ part. This means war,” he mumbled to himself as he struggled into his pants.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Hermione was walking hand-in-hand toward McGonagall’s office.

“So, Harry… you look a bit rumpled. Have any problems getting dressed? I was sure you’d enjoy seeing me.”

She pouted at him as she spoke. He tried not to betray that there was a distinct twitch in certain parts as she spoke. It didn’t help as she stopped and sweetly kissed his cheek.

“I thought about you holding me in your lap all night last night. It was a good thing I had silencing charms on my bed. Allllll night.”

He stumbled when she blinked at him coquettishly, but Hermione pulled him along.

“Careful there, Harry. I don’t want my boyfriend in the Hospital Wing more than necessary. Of course, I could visit and give you some _personal_ attention,” she purred. The look in his eyes triggered a loud laugh from her, and she squeezed his hand in hers.

 _Where did this Hermione come from?!_ The thought trampled all the other thoughts in his mind.

“Ummm, Hermione…”

She stopped and turned him to face her.

“Relax, Harry.” She glanced down and smirked. “If you can. I’m yours and you’re mine. I need to ask the Sorting Hat about that ‘bonded mate’ bit. Remember that?”

“Yes.”

“One reason I didn’t sleep much last night was thinking about that. I thought about it a lot, in between… other stuff… and know what?”

“What?”

“Harry, it wouldn’t bother me one bit if we were bonded. I could grow old with you. I hope I do, actually.”

He smiled at her.

“And what was that ‘other stuff’ you mentioned?”

She blushed a bit. A slightly lascivious smile framed her answer.

“Oh, you’ll find out sooner or later. It was a lot of very filling thoughts. Oh, look! We’re here now.”

He had his mouth open to inquire more when Hermione rapped on the door to the office occupied by the Deputy Headmistress. The door swung open and a familiar voice called for them to enter. Having been bidden, they did so.

“I’m surprised you two got here this soon.” McGonagall noted. “Usually, it’s hard to get Harry moving more or less smoothly this early. Even Quidditch practice takes a lot of effort. He really has to push through and it seems that you, Miss Granger, are motivating him better than anyone else has managed. What’s your secret?”

Everyone in the office could see her blush. Now that the duo was inside, they could see James and Lily seated there with McGonagall behind her desk. Lily looked like she would fall asleep again and James was rubbing her back and smirking at Hermione. He quirked a speculative eyebrow at Harry, who tried his best to look angelic. The professor rolled her eyes at this.

“That look never worked when your father did it, Mister Potter. It still doesn’t work for him. Don’t think it’s going to work for you, either.” McGonagall snorted.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry lamented, to everyone’s general amusement. He looked at his mother. “I guess I know where I get it from when it comes to dragging in the morning.”

James sighed. “This is a special case, Harry. We stayed awake last night longer than we thought we were going to.”

Everyone looked at him. Speculation was written on faces, one of those rather queasily.

“Not that! Not that!”

Eyebrows raised around the room.

“I’m serious! You try coming back from the dead and see what your first reaction is! What’s the first thing you’d want to do?”

Harry looked at Hermione and his face went red. James saw this and snickered, since Hermione seemed to be considering his aggrieved question and hadn’t noticed.

“So, James, how do you motivate Lily?”

“I don’t think I should say in mixed company. You see...”

Professor McGonagall cut off whatever he was about to say quite without mercy. The look she gave James shut him up.

“Debates about postmortem awakenings aside, I want to move on before we get sidetracked.” James sat back on the couch with Lily, who snuggled in. “Some of us in this gathering are not the best at preventing that,” she asserted, daring anyone to gainsay that.

No one did. Harry felt his face get warm. The fixed stare Hermione and the light sigh from her really didn’t help.

“So, the Headmaster and I believe all of us should make an appearance in the Great Hall for breakfast in about thirty minutes. We should put the Hogwarts rumor mill to work for us this time.”

“What?”

The surprise was very apparent in Harry’s voice, but looking around he could see that Hermione was considering it.

“We have to appear sometime, Mister Potter. Best that it be done now and get it over with.”

James grinned.

“I’ll do it. Harry and I look so much alike that the confusion factor alone is so worth it.”

Harry regarded his father. James and Lily were still dressed in the clothes that they had appeared in, meaning the height of early eighties fashion. It was painful to him, at least. James looked at him, divining what he was thinking.

“Well, okay, we needed to change clothes, too. Lils, you awake yet?”

“I don’t wanna beeee…” she whined. James stood up and pulled her up with him.

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ll feel better after we eat.”

“No, wanna go back to bed.”

“Food, time with Harry, seeing Snape go pale… wait is that last possible?”

“Sev’s here?”

“You don’t remember Minnie here telling us that?”

“No. Wanna sleep.”

Hermione leaned into Harry, her eyes dancing with amusement.

“I can see that I’ve got this to look forward to. No worries, I know what to do to get you up.”

Harry turned to look at her so fast, his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. She just smiled up at him and said nothing more other than blowing him a small kiss. Harry was beset with a few mental considerations of what she could have been meaning or referring to or plain outright implying, but Hermione wasn’t confirming or denying anything. It felt a bit frustrating to Harry. Meanwhile, James had gotten Lily to wake up enough to stand and dragged her over to Harry. He grabbed her hand as he stood himself. Harry couldn’t get enough of his mother’s hugs.

Behind them, the professor called for a house elf and murmured some instructions. The elf nodded and regarded the elder Potters for a moment. He disappeared with a muted _pop_ that hardly anyone noticed. Harry and Lily had finished their hug and now she was hugging Hermione.

The elf re-appeared, again with that muted _pop._ He was directing hangers carrying robes of royal blue to pegs that sprouted from the wall. The Potter crest was distinct on the breast panels of the robes. James noticed.

“Well, those look pretty good. I haven’t seen this crest in, hell, must be over fifteen years.”

Looking around, he could see eyes piercing into his forehead, and he quickly held up his hands in surrender.

“I yield, I yield! Don’t beat me!”

“If only I had years ago,” McGonagall grumbled to herself. “It might have solved _so many_ problems.”

No one heard her except the portrait behind her. The distinguished man in the frame grinned but said nothing. The weekly portrait poker game later tonight was going to be quite interesting.

James transfigured his clothes to a lighter fabric and slipped on the larger robe. It fit perfectly, of course, and absently he wondered if that elf was the school tailor. The way this robe fit, he had to be even if there was no evidence of a measuring tape having been used at all. For an eyeball measuring, this was excellent.

Lily had reluctantly parted from hugging Harry and did the same as James. After she pulled her hair out from the collar of the robe, she bound it in a loose ponytail. When they turned back to face the group, everyone got to their feet.

Lord and Lady Potter stood before them. The robes magnified their appearance. James’ hazel eyes and black hair and Lily’s vibrant red hair and pale skin stood out against the fabric of the robes.

Harry was looking at them, mouth agape. Hermione giggled at him and used a finger under his chin to close his mouth. Professor McGonagall spoke after a moment.

“Hm. That was a particularly inspired choice, if I say so myself. As I recall, royal blue isn’t quite the Potter colors but for now it’s fine.”

James was looking at the robes with a pleased expression.

“On me, they look good, but on Lily… just wow! Maybe Harry should have a set of robes just like these for breakfast today and maybe Hermione, too. Yes, definitely Hermione too.”

“Indeed, Mister Potter – or maybe _Lord_ Potter?” The professor’s voice was speculative, looking for information.

“I don’t know yet, Professor, so maybe let’s not tempt fate. Due to the circumstances of our return, _Harry_ might be Lord Potter and not me. Harry, you did claim your House ring when you turned eleven, right?”

Harry gaped at him.

“Ring? What ring?”

James stared back at him. To Harry’s side, Hermione looked just as confused.

“It’s in our wills. You did read those, right?”

Harry didn’t think he could look more confused but apparently he could.

“What wills? I never knew you had wills.”

McGonagall looked upset, and James noticed.

“What don’t I know, Minnie?”

He knew it was bad from her non-reaction to the nickname.

“Something just made sense to me from long ago. The Minister’s Edict.”

“What was that?”

She dropped into a chair and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I do believe we need to look into this more, but the Minister at the time of your… deaths… took the very rare step of using this power of the Office of the Minister for Magic to seal the wills of those known to be enemies of the state. So to speak, that is. I wondered about the reason young Mister Potter didn’t have the wills with him when he arrived at Hogwarts and tried to find out. I was blocked at every turn, and so was the Headmaster. Even his station as the Chief Warlock couldn’t overturn the Edict.”

“Edict?” Harry’s voice was befuddled, although from the look on James’ face, it was clear that this wasn’t a good thing. Professor McGonagall looked at him.

“It’s something in the previous charter used before the Wizengamot came into being that carried over. The Minister for Magic can rule on an issue or take preemptive action on something in certain circumstances, and a time of war – civil or otherwise – is one of those.”

“Okay, so what does that have to do with my parents’ wills? Are you saying that somehow this was used to suppress them?”

“It’s very possible.”

“So you’re saying that the Ministry didn’t want me to read those wills? Not that I ever knew they existed, that is.”

Lily had apparently awakened enough to hear this and the look on her face suggested that someone was going to pay. However, her stomach growled and she looked up, embarrassed at the grins on the faces of the other Potters. Hermione and Professor McGonagall kept straight faces. The older woman smoothly interrupted whatever James was about to say.

“I do believe that the discussion about wills should be tabled until later today. I came to escort you down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Since word will get out of your return sooner or later, it is of the opinion of both the Headmaster and myself that it should be on our terms and not some reporter. Besides, the elves have already heard of your return, Mrs. Potter,” she nodded to Lily, “and having long memories, especially for their favorites, have decided that this morning will feature crepes and strawberries for you.”

“What about me?” James was curious to know, since crepes had never been the most satisfying to him.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find something, Mister Potter.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Thirty-five minutes later, the three Potters and Hermione was gathering together down the corridor to the Great Hall. James and Lily had decided to wait for Harry and Hermione to change into matching robes. As Harry put on the House Potter robes, he felt himself standing taller as though there was was some kind of obscure magic imbued in these robes that answered to the Potter blood in his veins. He wondered, since it seemed likely to him.

When he saw Hermione in the same robes, he was blown away.

She stood taller too, it seemed. She was never going to be taller than maybe five and a half feet, if maybe an inch over, but the Potter robes seemed to give her three extra inches. He didn’t know what it was, but Harry approved. Her skin was glowing and her hair sparkled. Harry looked again and was debating with himself about whether her hair was sparking or sparkling. Usually ‘sparking’ meant someone was about to feel the pain.

In any event, he decided to take the safer route. He had offered his arm as Hermione came down the stairs. She took it.

“You look lovely. You fit those robes as though you was meant to wear them.”

She beamed at him.

“Maybe I was. Three elves with Potter crests on their little robes were so happy when they brought them to me and got me dressed in them. I thought two of them was going to drown in tears and the third seemed so full of pride to see me wearing them, I thought he was going to vibrate through the floor.”

“Wait… what? Potter elves?”

“I think so. They wore the same crest as the ones on these robes. We’ll see if we can find them again later. We have a McGonagall prank to pull now.”

“A what?”

She grinned at him.

“You know this was her idea. The Headmaster would have been more secretive about it. Imagine the argument they must have had about it.”

He shuddered. “I don’t think I want to.”

“And with one of the original Marauders involved, what else could it be but a prank?”

“Well, okay, you do have a point. But on who?”

She grinned again but didn’t answer. They saw James and Lily just ahead. The two younger were greeted by the two elder with hugs. James spoke.

“So, daughter-in-law, are you ready to cast chaos, mayhem and havoc on the good order of Hogwarts?”

The question was punctuated by a slap on the back of his head, but he was laughing too hard at the look on Harry’s face to notice. Lily traded long-suffering glances with Hermione, who at least was amused. The younger witch approached James and kissed him on the cheek.

“I think, _father-in-law,_ you need some chaos, mayhem, and havoc of your own. Trust me, I can handle one Potter. Another won’t be a problem at all.”

Her wand twitched, unseen by James. Lily’s eyes went wide. She bit her knuckles trying to hold back a sudden spurt of laughter. James stiffened.

“What did you do?”

She smirked at him – sweetly. Harry didn’t know that was even possible, not after years of Malfoy’s brand of smirks.

“It’s very simple. I’m sowing chaos, mayhem, and havoc of my own, as you suggested. I thought that was some good advice, so I’m doing just that.”

“But how?!” James couldn’t detect anything wrong or anything that had changed.

“I’m not saying. Any good prankster never reveals her methods. That is unless the revelation is used for misdirection, in which case the mark is directed to somewhere or someone else.”

James stewed but couldn’t really argue with that. Lily’s eyes were watering now from trying to hold back the laughter, since she was fairly sure what Hermione had done. There was something different in the spell chain she observed, but she was sure they would find out.

“Oh, and James?”

He looked at her, wondering what was next. Hermione’s eyes sparkled.

“Mischief managed.”

There was a burst of laughter from Harry, and James shot a look of betrayal toward him while wondering how they knew that phrase. That question could wait until later since they were about to enter the Great Hall.

“Everyone ready?”

Nods were exchanged all around and the younger of the group went in first. James and Lily followed.

At first, there was no reaction but when Harry and Hermione didn’t go to their regular seats, some looked up. They noticed the pair following them but most of the students didn’t know who they were. Ron looked up and dropped his fork. This was so unexpected – after all, just about everyone was convinced Ron had a fork grafted onto his hand instead of using the Hogwarts cutlery – that others looked at him. Seeing the surprise on his face, they looked at what he was staring at, but no one really understood what was the matter.

Ron, however, wasn’t as stupid as everyone thought. He just acted stupid when he didn’t engage his brain. In this case, he was thinking as hard as he possibly could. The pair behind him looked exactly like the picture that Harry had positioned on his nightstand for years now. The man looked like a slightly older version of Harry himself, and the woman with that auburn hair looked like…

“Oh, Merlin.”

He shot to his feet, food forgotten, and stared. He watched as the two pairs strolled up to the staff table where Dumbledore was starting to stand. Even from here, Ron could see the massive twinkle in his eyes. What were they all up to? And McGonagall? She looked like a cat that got into the cream.

What was going on?

Others apart from the Gryffindor table had noticed his abrupt motion and looked, the noise of the Great Hall at breakfast quickly falling off as the Headmaster rose. Harry gave the Headmaster the quickest wink he could and broke off to stand across from Professor McGonagall with Hermione cuddled into him. Behind him, Harry heard a cut-off strangled noise.

Dumbledore’s jovial voice cut into the silence.

“Well then. Mister Potter, Miss Granger, I take it you have something to announce in your own inimitable style?”

“You could say that, Professor.” He turned to the other two. “It gives me great and untold pleasure after so long to present Lily and James Potter.”

There was another strangled noise, which prompted Harry to peek out of the corner of his eye at Professor Snape. The potions master was white as a brand new bed sheet, making his hair and black robes actually stand out even more. He had to turn his attention back to the Headmaster’s amused voice.

“Oh, my. Yes, this is a momentous occasion. Have you performed your due diligence in confirming their identity?”

“Of course, Headmaster. You were there, after all.”

“So I was, indeed. The Sorting Hat is still a bit grumpy.”

James snorted but didn’t say anything since Dumbledore had continued to speak, this time to everyone else.

“I have to confirm Mister… well, _young_ Mister Potter’s account. Last night, I was called to his side, and that of Miss Granger, to witness the return of the Potters. I will not go into how that was accomplished, except to say that like many things at Hogwarts it involved Magic. I should specify that it was some of the Lightest Magic that I’ve ever encountered and was solely due to the power of Love itself.”

There was a thump to his left as Professor Flitwick fell off his chair in his excitement. A moment later, he shot back into his chair with one of the largest grins anyone had ever seen on his face.

“I’m okay! Nothing wrong!”

The Headmaster nodded as if he expected this minor interruption.

“Now in the days ahead, there will be a great deal of speculation. Some of that will be mine, of course. I’m quite curious myself. However, do not pester any of the Potters or Miss Granger. If they wish to relate how this came about, they will. If not, don’t push them. I trust I make myself clear?”

There was a faint murmur that rolled around the Great Hall. There was a sob from the half-giant at the end of the table. Lily broke from the group to go up to Hagrid and give him a hug.

“Lily, is it really you? And James?”

He meant to whisper, but this was Hagrid. His whisper could be heard at the other end of the Great Hall in the otherwise absolute silence.

“Yes, Hagrid, it’s us. We’ve missed you.”

The half-giant’s eyes ran over and the tears disappeared into his bushy beard. Lily gave him another hug and a kiss on his brow. She stepped over to Professor Flitwick who flung his arms around her. There was something whispered between them which caused him to laugh and nod. She continued down the line to greet the instructors that she remembered until she got to the other end.

A dark brooding presence awaited her.

“Sev.”

He stared at her. Snape raised a hand to her arm and all in the Great Hall could see that it shook. There was no comments at all from anyone at the sight, as everyone wanted to see what happened. She took it and squeezed tightly.

“Lily. I don’t know what to believe and I refuse to parrot Hagrid.”

A tear fell from his eye and he never noticed. His concentration on Lily was too great. She gently wiped the tear away from his face.

“Sev. I’m here. I’m back. We need to talk later, but I want to tell you now, in public.”

“Tell me what?” His expression was bewildered. “Lily, what… How…”

Her words came out measured, if a bit fast.

“Sev, I forgive you for what you said after our argument long ago. There’s too much happening, too much to deal with to hold grudges after so long. James and I both feel that way.”

Snape looked over the edge as James walked over to stand at the raised platform that the staff table was placed on.

“And I have to apologize to you. I was a right git to you. There’s been a lot of things that happened to us,” motioning to himself and Lily, “in the afterlife that frankly took a lot of beating of my pride, but I have to take account of my own actions. I can’t be Lord Potter and act like I did. In fact, I never should have. I’m sorry. Really.”

Snape stared at him, mouth agape. Lily poked him.

“Well? He’s being sincere.”

“I… I have to think about it. Excuse me.”

He looked at Lily again, dark eyes still wide and unbelieving. His hand was gently disengaged from hers, if a bit quickly. No one had ever seen Snape this pale before and everyone could see the tremble in his lower lip. With a swirl and a billow of his robes, he disappeared so quickly most would have been forgiven to think that he had disapparated from the Great Hall.

Lily glanced at Professor McGonagall who shrugged. _Give him time,_ her posture seemed to say. She nodded and stepped down to hug her husband. They followed the other two to the Gryffindor table. Harry saw Ron and waved at him, but saw that there wasn’t room enough for the four of them except at the end of the table. He shrugged and sat down. When he looked up, Ron had come down to sit with him.

“Harry, mate. Is this really…”

He looked gobsmacked as he spoke. Before Harry could answer, Lily spoke up.

“Yes, Ronald Weasley, it is. You and I have a little discussion coming too. Does dragons, age lines, and Triwizard Tournament ring a bell?”

Ron looked at the blazing green eyes and gulped. James put a calming hand on Lily’s arm and shook his head at her.

“Sweets, that’s for Harry to do. I’d say they’ve worked it out by now.”

She sniffed and speared Ron with another glance, promising she wasn’t done. Ron went as pale as the recently departed Potions Master. Ginny looked on with amusement but decided not to say anything.

“So, Potter, you got somebody to act as your poor excuses as parents? All they’d have to do was act like beggars, anyway. What did it take, whoring Granger out for a month? It wouldn’t have been anything new. We would have paid lowest rates.”

Harry had been hoping the day would go well, even with the expected complications from the returned pair. The snide voice belonging to Draco Malfoy was unmistakable and very much unwanted. His eyes lit up like Lily’s and a hush fell over the hall. James looked at him.

“Well, son, do you want to do the honors, or should I?”

“How about both? He just insulted you, mum, me, and Hermione in the same breath.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go.”

They started to stand up, only to see that in the time they took for the short discussion that Hermione had already stood up. Malfoy sneered as she walked up to him.

“Leave, Malfoy. Leave before you get hurt.”

He sneered at her, a patented expression that most of the Gryffindor table had long been convinced had frozen on his face.

“Oh, please, Granger. Like you could do anything.”

“Oh? Let me demonstrate what I can do.”

There wasn’t time for anyone to take another breath. A left jab slammed into his right eye. A right hook caught him in the stomach, continued up to meet her left hand behind his suddenly descending head, and jerked his head down on her left knee.

“Oh damn, Harry. Should we stop her?”

Harry stared at James.

“Do you really want to get into the middle of that?”

“Good point. Too bad there’s no popcorn.”

They watched as Malfoy’s hands rushed up to clasp his now bloody nose as he snapped upright. Hermione’s hands curled into talons as she grabbed his robes and jerked him into his space. He stumbled forward and a screech was heard as her right knee pistoned into his groin, twice. He curled up again and Hermione helped him to the floor with an elbow slamming intohis back. She stomped on one of his ankles for good measure before straightening up and staring at the Slytherins.

“Anyone else have anything else to say?”

Her hair was flying everywhere. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were shining in the heat of battle and her hands were still curled into the talons that had dispatched Malfoy. Hermione’s voice rose into an enraged shout.

“ _loDHom quv, pagh QIchlIj vIlaghchoHtaHvIS, jIQublaHchugh!”_

Harry simply couldn’t help it. He barked a laugh at Hermione’s theatrics and figured he had a golden opportunity. He slammed his fists on the table, ignoring the startled looks of the others there.

“ _QI'yaH! Qapla'!”_

It was the only thing he could remember from the Klingon language dictionary he’d read in Surrey one summer for a laugh. He was was pretty sure no one would get it here, and frankly he had no idea what Hermione had shouted. To his surprise, there was scattered pockets of laughter and maybe ten or twelve pairs of fists impacting the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. They echoed what he’d spouted off, banging on the tables and rattling dishes. To his shock, Professor Flitwick was doing the same thing at the staff table, shouting in Klingon, and grinning like a pint-sized madman. He seemed fluent, and Harry resolved to ask him about it later.

Dumbledore just twinkled madly, although the other professors looked completely lost and a bit worried at the violence.

Hermione blushed. She had no idea what prompted her to say that, but she had been so mad at the smarmy blond that it just burst out of her. The Slytherin table was still looking at her a bit afraid, while Malfoy groaned at her feet. She kicked him hard in the ribs and turned back to her seat, escorted by guttural shouts.

“So what was that, my lovely Klingon warrior?” Harry murmured.

“Well, I had to say _something._ ”

Thankfully, the distraction of Hermione’s beatdown of Malfoy and his subsequent dragging off to the Hospital Wing covered their meal and escape from the Great Hall. It was safe to say that the re-introduction of James and Lily Potter would be talked about for a while.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

The box had been completely empty.

When Arthur Weasley had reached for the box, he asked the others what the worse to happen could have been.

Apparently there wasn’t anything that could have happened. There didn’t seem to be anything in the box and the three men look at each other with confusion in every part of their faces. It didn’t make a bit of sense to any of them.

“A damn heavy box like that and there’s nothing in it?”

“It sure looks that way, Fionn.”

“That makes no sense!” The youngest of the three sounded quite put out, and the other two didn’t blame him. Having a box follow him around everywhere he went and later turn out to be empty couldn’t have made him too happy.

“Well, what do we do now?”

Arthur’s question was met with helpless silence for a moment. The other two shrugged at him, as lost about what to do as he was.

“Well, I guess we take the box off your desk to start with and put it away somewhere. It’s just a box, right? Billy?”

Arthur looked at Billy, who in all honesty looked like he’d be fine with throwing the thing in a bonfire and forgetting all about it.

“I guess so. It doesn’t make for a good tip jar or anything. Besides, how is Arthur going to do any work with it there, getting into his way?”

“I suppose not. Well, let’s move this thing. Slide it over to the edge and we’ll pick it up from there. It’s not like it’s going to wreck your desk any worse. Sorry, Arthur.”

The Weasley patriarch waved the comment off, since he was going to requisition a new one anyway. The bean-counters might deny him yet again, but he was going to try it. The three men grabbed on to whatever corner of the box that presented itself and tugged as hard as they could to move it.

In vain.

The box sat there, right in the middle of Arthur’s desk, completely ignoring any attempts to move it. They looked at each other and tried to move it again without luck.

“This box _is_ empty, right?”

Billy stuck his hand down in the box and felt around.

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

Arthur thumped the side of it, resulting in a sound like any other wooden box.

“Well, what’s the problem? What’s keeping the thing on your desk?”

A giggle from behind the trio interrupted them.

“That would be my fault. Sorry!”

They looked around to the unexpected sound of the voice. On the couch rested a lovely woman. Her amusement was plain to see. The blonde curls framed luminous blue eyes and a laughing smile. The three could see that she was dressed in something that defied all ready expression. Arthur privately thought that Molly could never pull off whatever that outfit was and couldn’t have twenty-five years ago either.

None were quite sure if she was wearing fabrics at all. It shifted as she moved, revealing tantalizing glimpses of a trim body. She chortled at their dumbstruck expressions.

“Close your mouths, boys. Two of you are married and all of you are far too young for me. Centuries, even.”

Arthur snapped his jaw shut, barely remember to pull his tongue in first. It looked like the other two had the same problems.

“Um… who are you and how did you get here?”

“Hello, Arthur Weasley. ‘How’ was in that box,” she pointed to the box in question with a slim finger, “and ‘who’ is quite simple.”

The three felt their magics pulsing along with their heartbeats, responding to her presence.

“I’m Magic itself and I have a job for you!”

The surprise in their faces seemed comical to her even as she started to talk.

“You see, I want someone to be supports for Harry Potter and his bonded, Hermione.”

“Harry and Hermione? They’re bonded now?” Arthur smiled. “It’s been a little while since I’ve seen them. I thought that was going to happen long ago, but only Fred and George believed me. Well, Bill and Charlie might have had some thoughts but with them out of the country and not really around them much, I don’t know what they thought. I do know that she looked out for him a lot considering all the scrapes he’s gotten into over the years.”

The other two looked at him as he rambled. Magic smiled broadly at him and stood up to give him a hug.

“And you opened your home to him whenever he’s needed it. Arthur Weasley, you’ve been one of the father figures he’s needed and I thank you. As for the bonding, I’m not sure they quite understand it as a result of the recent ritual they did. As one of those father figures, Arthur, I’d like you to mention that to them. I’ll talk to you about that later and tell you what they need to know. Oh, don’t worry, I completely approve. He needs her a lot more than he really knows.”

Arthur blushed as she tightened her hold on him for a moment. When she kissed his cheek and let go, he was as red as his hair. The other two glanced at each other, a bit jealous that they didn’t get a hug. The redheaded man looked at the physical manifestation of Magic and spoke.

“I and my family will always support Harry, and Hermione of course, since we’ve pretty much adopted him as another son and her as another daughter. As the Head of House Weasley, I’ve always had a place for them and always will.”

His eyes glowed and Magic clapped in delight. Arthur didn’t realize what had happened, since he was speaking from the heart.

“But what about us? As far as I know, Billy here doesn’t have any real knowledge of those kids, and I know I don’t. Where do we even fit?” Fionn was lost and his voice showed it.

Magic laughed.

“You work in this ‘Magical Accidents and Catastrophes’ department, right? You should know how to create them, I’m sure.” She ignored his surprise and turned to point at the younger man hiding a bit behind Fionn McCartan. “And Billy – such a cute little boy, I want one just like him – knows all kind of groups of people from going out to meet them and counting them all the time. Who better to find somewhere to hide my Chosen when they need to be hidden?”

They all stared at each other at that pronouncement, made as easily as dropping a couple of Knuts into a jar.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Neville sat at the bedside of the slight young girl he’d brought into the Hospital Wing. He felt responsible for her, somehow, and didn’t want to leave her bedside until she woke up. Madam Pomfrey had told him that it would most likely be all day before that happened, but he didn’t care. They had come to an agreement. As long as he wasn’t disruptive to her domain, she would allow him to remain where he was. From the beady eye she’d directed his way, he knew that she meant what she’d told him.

So, he remained. For some reason, he found himself holding her hand. The rough calluses on his fingers from all the manual non-magical work he did in the greenhouses and the grounds of Hogwarts seemed to float over the soft skin of her hand. There was a feminine strength in that hand, he knew. Their dance in the greenhouse had told him that. Unfortunately due to her present condition, it was in abeyance.

It bothered Neville. Her limp hand in his bothered him more than he was able to put into words. So he did the only thing that he could for now. He remained at her bedside. Luna might have had a certain… kookiness… about her, but whatever had savaged her body the way it had was not deserved by her at all.

He felt his fist tighten up. It was the one that was holding her hand and he forced himself to calm down.

What was with him?

There was a noise at the doors to the Infirmary and he looked up to see Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walk in with two strangers. Neville waved at them and turned his attention back to Luna. The thought ran through his head that it was a rare thing when Harry came here willingly. He wondered if Harry was sick.

He snorted to himself over that thought as his glance wandered to the engraved plaque over the bed that Harry seemed to always be put into. A shadow fell over his seated form and he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Neville looked up to see Harry’s concerned face.

“We didn’t see you or Luna at breakfast, Nev. We just found out about her. What happened?”

“All I know is that I found her under some kind of weird Disillusionment charm, badly injured. There was blood everywhere and I didn’t stick around to take any notes. She was in bad shape and I got her here as quickly as I could. Madam Pomfrey told me that it was a good thing I got here as quick as I did since her blood volume was severely depleted. If it hadn’t been for her magic specifically focusing on something – what she hasn’t figured out yet – Luna would have died.”

“Was her father notified?”

Neville nodded.

“I think so, but I also think he’s off on another expedition and can’t get here quickly. I’m not going to leave her here alone.”

Harry moved to the other side of the bed to pick up Luna’s other hand and Neville saw the strangers move around to let him through. Hermione moved with him and put her hand on his shoulder as he perched on a bedside stool.

“Luna? We’re here and we’re pulling for you. I’ve been in these beds too much myself, so don’t go trying to beat my time here. I don’t think you could.”

A snort from the nearby office came clearly through the open door. Harry cast a betrayed look at Madam Pomfrey, who’d stuck her head out the door to see who’d come in. She rolled her eyes at him and went back to whatever she’d been doing. The smirks on the faces of Hermione and Neville didn’t make him feel better.

“What? It’s true, right?”

There was a moment of silence broken by Neville clearing his throat. Harry looked up from looking at Luna’s sleeping face.

“Yeah, Nev?”

The stockier young man flicked his eyes to the strangers and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t release Luna’s hand.

“Oh! Well, you weren’t there at breakfast to meet them. It was quite a show.” Hermione reddened at that. He gently laid Luna’s hand down and stood up. “Neville Longbottom, meet James and Lily Potter.”

“What?”

“Yep, it is.”

Neville normally would be gaping at all of them, but they could see that his mind was more distracted by the young witch whose hand he still held. There was enough confusion there for him to ask the obvious question.

“But how?”

Lily grabbed a chair and sat down by Neville.

“I’d say it’s a long story, but short form: Hermione grabbed Harry and did a ritual. We’re back. Harry was very red in the face after she grabbed him,” she finished firmly.

Neville raised an eyebrow and looked up at Hermione, who’d gotten a distinct blush.

“Apparently not just Harry, not that it matters. It’s not hard to embarrass him. It’s entertaining, sometimes. Are you really…?” His tone indicated that he was a bit hopeful.

Lily grinned.

“Yes, we are and proven by the Sorting Hat too. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Neville. I remember having changed my godson’s nappies a few times. I’m pleased to see him holding a pretty girl’s hand now.”

Neville blushed this time and Harry snickered. Lily looked at him.

“Don’t laugh too much, son of mine. Between you and Neville, there was a lot more cleaning and sanitizing to keep both of you in nappies. Nobody figured out who was worse.”

The snicker cut off abruptly. Neville whispered to Harry, “Better hope she doesn’t have baby pictures hidden somewhere, mate.”

Lily smiled. Neville wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was.

“Even better. I have memories of baby baths and Harry streaking on his broomstick.”

Harry nearly swallowed his tongue when Hermione innocently said, “Oh? The Headmaster has a pensieve. Care to share?”

To his dismay, Lily looked at the other witch and smiled. The godbrothers looked up at James, who held up his hands.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not getting in this one. I know better.”

Mildly frustrated, they looked at each other, and Harry picked up Luna’s hand again as James continued with his thought.

“I have a few memories of my own, you two. It wasn’t just brooms when the two of you decided to compete. Why, I remember this one time…”

Harry cleared his throat loudly, hoping that Madam Pomfrey hadn’t heard that.

“Sirius and Remus used to place bets on one or the other of you. Frank thought it was hilarious, but Alice had to be a spoilsport about it.”

Neville’s eyes jumped to James, who looked back at him.

“Uh… who won?”

“Oh, I’d say it was about even.”

“What did Mum do?”

“Gave us all a right wigging about it, then demanded Frank take her out for dinner on the winnings. He knew it was the safest thing to do, and to avoid sleeping on the couch for a while he did just that, even though neither of you placed enough for even a shot of cheap Firewhiskey. He took her out and didn’t say a word about it. We all chipped in that day to prevent Frank from suffering too much. Alice was smug about it for a week.”

Neville snorted.

“I can see that.”

Lily eyed James. He looked at her a little uneasily.

“And just where was my dinner night out, hmmmm? I’m sure the castle house-elves can find you a nice, somewhat comfortable couch while I stay in that nice cozy bed.”

James shut up quickly and looked at Harry.

“Don’t look at me, dad. I’m not getting in this one. I know better.”

Hermione patted his shoulder in congratulations. Trying to change the subject before any spousal battles erupted, Harry looked at Luna, then Neville.

“So, Nev, it seems like there must be a spark between you two. Care to comment any?”

There was another light blush from the Gryffindor holding her other hand.

“Well, I’m not… you see… uh…. Well…”

The more he sputtered, the wider Harry’s grin got.

“Nev. Relax, your secrets are safe with us. It’s not like we have any gossipmongers in here now, right?”

He was fairly sure Madam Pomfrey would stay quiet about anything she heard in here. He wasn’t sure she and Professor McGonagall wouldn’t lay any bets anyway. Meeting Hermione’s eyes, he saw that she seemed to have much the same thoughts. In fact, she looked like she was going to lay her own bets. Harry hoped that Neville didn’t notice. He didn’t see the gleam in Lily’s eyes.

Neville took a deep breath.

“We danced in the greenhouse.”

Lily’s eyes widened and she smiled at her godson.

“Oh, now we’re getting somewhere. Just a dance? Two? Three? Before or after curfew? All night?”

James leaned down. His expression would have done any _Daily Prophet_ reporter proud.

“Did you snog her a good one?”

“James!”

“What? It’s a reasonable question. I would have if it had been you.”

Lily shook her head, but considering the color on Neville’s cheeks there wasn’t a need to answer that. She leaned over and gave him a hug. He leaned into her hug, feeling his magic reach out for that maternal feeling. She felt it too and held him close.

“Show her what a Longbottom stands for. The Potters are with you, too. Potters and Longbottoms stick together. Don’t forget that,” she whispered to him.

“But she’s got to wake up first to be able to show her,” he whispered back. His eyes were worried.

“She will, godson. It may take her a little while, but she will. I bet your magic has been reaching for her all this time. You haven’t let go of her hand this whole time you’ve been sitting in that chair, have you?”

“No…” His whisper trailed off as he came to a realization. His eyes grew wide.

“Then wait and let her heal. Then when she’s ready, take her out for another dance. Show her that romantic side all Longbottom men have, hmm?”

He nodded as she grinned at him.

“I will.”

She smiled and ruffled his hair.

“I know you will.”

She let him go after kissing his forehead and they took their leave after Lily told him to remember to eat something and take care of himself. Harry told him that there would be more explanations later. After they left, Neville looked at Luna’s still form. He remained still for many minutes before coming to a decision in the stillness of the otherwise empty room.

“Luna, I want to dance with you and hold you in my arms again, but I can’t do that with you in this hospital bed. Come back to me.”

There was a pause as he placed a light kiss on the back of her still hand.

“Luna Lovegood, may I have this dance?”

Behind the closed eyelids, her magic responded to his with a silvery pulse.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

In the Owlery’s main administration offices, an old owl grinned to himself as the winds of magic shifted around him yet again. It was about time. He drafted a messenger leaf and sent it off. Lady Hedwig would like this, if she hadn’t noticed it already. There were things happening that neither liked or understood and didn’t know what to do about, but this was something to enjoy.

He turned his attention to the monthly budget report. What the name of The Great Thermal was Jessup thinking? Did he expect to get this much for the quarter, much less the year?

Sighing in annoyance at self-important owlish bureaucrats yet again, he made some corrections. Sooner or later he was going to have to have Jessup in his office… yet again.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Professor Snape was almost finished with his potion as a portion of his mind chewed over what he had seen earlier. His mastery of the mind arts helped to keep him upright in the wake of the absolute shock he’d just suffered an hour or so ago, but the familiar actions of brewing a potion helped steady him. His equilibrium was almost completely back to what was normal for him.

A knock on the door interrupted Snape before he could finish the stirring of the blood replenishment potions for Madam Pomfrey. It was his habit to fill her stocks of various potions since he was the most efficient brewer in Britain and could create a finished potion in a fraction of the time than everyone else. This allowed him to devote less time to that chore, which was useful during Quidditch season.

Without stopping the stirring motion in the cauldron he was working in, he waved a hand at the door to unlock it using wandless magic. He held up a pointer finger at whoever came into his private potions lab in an unspoken command to wait for him to finish.

There was no interruption for the next few minutes and he was satisfied as the cauldron entered the final parts of the process. Snape reduced the heat and murmured a timing spell to cut it off after seven minutes of simmering. There was nothing else that he needed to do after that, so he put a lid on the cauldron and turned to see who his visitors were.

To his shock, it was James and Lily Potter.

His surprise must have found its way on his pale face, because James held up both hands. Neither hand held a wand and his fingers spread apart.

“We have come to visit you in peace – and with good will.”

Despite himself, Snape rolled his eyes.

“If you say _‘Klaatu barada nikto,’_ I’m going to hex you.”

James stopped, confused. “What?” He was interrupted by a snort from Lily. He looked at her. “What is he talking about?”

She shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

“Nothing. Muggle movie reference.”

“Ah, okay, if you say so.” He faced Snape again, who was looking at him with a disbelieving sneer. “But seriously, I did mean the ‘good will’ part, but we do have a lot of air to get cleared. All three of us.”

A dark eyebrow rose.

“And what exactly could I trust you with? I can’t think of anything.”

James stopped.

“Okay, that’s a fair question. How’s this? We – meaning the Marauders – went too far too many times while we were in school – all of us. For my part, we meant what we said, Lily and I.”

The eyebrow had been descending, but it rose again.

“So is that all? I have brewing to do if it is.”

Lily stepped forward.

“No, Sev, there isn’t. You’ve behaved very badly to not just my son, but a lot of others.”

“Dunderheads, the lot of them.”

Lily stared at him, a tic starting at one of her eyelids. “You know better than that.”

He returned the stare with interest. “Very well, I grant that some aren’t as deadly as others.”

“But you’re still stuck on events that happened twenty plus years ago. I’ve heard about my son’s very first lesson. Why did you ask him upper-year questions and then ridicule him for not knowing?”

“So, this is what this is about? The Potter prince went crying to mummy? Why didn’t you bring this up earlier in the Great Hall, before all the witnesses?”

James sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Look, Severus,” Snape looked surprised at not being called _‘Snivellous’_ and looked harder at him, “there’s a saying I once heard that goes something like ‘resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.’ One of the things we saw on the other side was the souls burdened down with the resentments and grudges and grievances and I don’t know what all else. All the bad stuff that people carried over in life from day-to-day and year-to-year. It was something that both of us had holding us back too and we spent time trying to identify the cause of all that. We couldn’t escape the conclusions there. For me at least, it was like being slapped in the face with a big fat trout.”

“And?” The word was drawled out.

“And yeah, getting hit with a Voldemort special delivery didn’t help with that either since it stings like a bitch when you wake up in the afterlife, but since time doesn’t apply there as it does here the crippling grudges and stuff tainted the so-called enjoyment Lily and I could have otherwise had. Seeing all that crap felt like it was aging us, if again not at the same rate as we would have been in life. Aside from worrying about our son, from the glimpses we saw from life with the Dursleys. He didn’t have a good time with Lily’s lovely sister Petunia.”

Snape grimaced. James saw that.

“Yeah. Me too. Never liked her. I don’t know what you might know, but let’s just say that we’re going to sit him down later and have a long talk with him, then probably have a _very long_ talk with them depending on what he tells us.”

Lily looked up at Snape and motioned him closer. Unsure what she was up to, he slowly approached. She whispered something in his ear that made his eyes go wider, before his Occlumency shields slammed down and his face evened out. He looked down at her face, with the green eyes he remembered so well.

“Are you sure, Lily?”

She shrugged, looking a little lost. “I don’t know for sure, yet. We only saw glimpses at certain times and certain circumstances. You’ve seen him more than we have during his time in school, remember? That’s more time with him than we’ve had.”

James wondered what his wife had whispered in the other man’s ear that had such an effect, and he could see that she wasn’t going to tell him what it was.

“Severus, look, the reason we didn’t jump all over you in the Great Hall is that we want to set an example for the kids in there. There were first years and second years that didn’t need to see either Lily or me hex you up one side or the other. Probably third years, too. Private discussion is better, since frankly what we have to say to each other to clear the air is most definitely none of their business.”

Lily nodded at what he was saying.

“Tell us. Why did you treat our son that way? Was it because he looks so much like James and it reminded you of the stupid way the Marauders treated you?”

Snape was silent for a moment, and the other two didn’t push. They could see that he was thinking about it.

“To some degree, but if you say anything about that outside of these walls…”

“We won’t.” Lily said. “But you need to apologize to Harry. I mean it, Sev. You’ve got a hell of a lot of making up to me where my beloved son is concerned.”

She could see the stubbornness in him.

“I mean it, Sev. I think you know what I’ll do if I hear of you doing it to him again. I won’t leave enough of you for DMLE to blot up with a roll of paper towels. You have a lot of changing to do.”

James was wondering what paper towels was, but apparently the other man did.

“Ah, distinct promises of violence aside,” they both turned to look at him, “Voldie’s got to go. He nearly destroyed Magical Britain last time.”

“I agree. That’s why I’m working against him even if he doesn’t know it.”

James and Lily wasn’t expecting that, and it distracted them from what they had planned to say.

He bared his arm to reveal the Dark Mark, which was sinister on his forearm. It seemed to pull all the light out of the room.

“I hope to see this fade to nothingness and the day that it does is the day he finally dies. If that means I die the same day, then so be it.”

“Why are you so set against him?” James wondered. “I thought you just happened to be a Death Eater, through and through?”

Snape grimaced. He walked to a cabinet and took out a large dusty bottle and three glasses. Those went on a side table. The bottle itself wasn’t clear glass, but some opaque material that settled onto the table with a solid _thunk._

“You can do a poison detection spell on those. Once I break the seal, I’m not going to stop until the bottle is empty. If that means I have to drink the whole thing myself, that bottle’s going to be empty tonight. You want to know why, then we drink this. If we beat the hell out of each other in the meantime, oh well.”

The others’ eyebrows rose at this. James used a Potter family spell to detect any poison, while Snape put his cauldron under a stasis spell. He looked at Lily.

“How did you come back from the dead, anyway?”

Lily smiled.

“Magic. Magic, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, and a ritual she _still_ hasn’t quite told us about.”

Snape rolled his eyes.

“ _Of course_ it was. She’s too smart for her own good sometimes.”

James finished what he was doing and Snape poured out the drinks. Raising his drink to his lips, he paused. There was something about the way Lily had said that last part. Something occurred to him and he groaned.

“There aren’t going to be any little Potters running around now, are there?”

He shuddered at the thought and threw back his drink to stave it off. It didn’t help, so he refilled his glass as quickly as he could. No one noticed that the bottle refilled itself to half of what had been poured out.

“No. You don’t have to worry about that. Not that kind of ritual, at least.”

“Thank Morgana for small favors,” he grumbled.

“Hey! I think being a Potter is great!” James yelped.

“You would.”

Lily took back the conversational reins after glaring at the other two.

“Now, about the way you treated him and others?”

Her green eyes bored into his dark ones, and against his will he found himself confiding things the same way that he had done as they did growing up.

“I have to play a role. Assigned by who, I won’t say. Circumstances dictated that I have to be a…” he paused momentarily for a suitable description.

“A bellend? A dribbling dick? A true arsehole to end all arseholes? A right bastard? A really huge cock-up? An absolute… Oof!” James found his recitation of suggestions cut off by the backhand to the gut delivered by his loving wife.

Snape rolled his eyes again.

“Yes,” he drawled. “I’ve had to pretend to be you. On a good day. Using that example, it wasn’t hard.”

“Hey!”

“Shut up and drink. I’m nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation I don’t want to have anyway.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

The next morning, James and Lily found out that the liquor, which had gone down quite smoothly, produced a hangover that refused to respond to any hangover potion. This didn’t prevent the understanding they had come to with Snape. The venom was finally excised although he would never be James’ friend. It had taken several hexes, some borderline Dark curses, quite a few shouted words from all parties, screamed imprecations and dire promises, broken furniture (although the potions had been untouched,) four black eyes, five broken hands, a ripped tendon or two, eleven broken ribs, a broken nose, two hyper-extended knees, twelve ripped-out fingernails and some lacerations in rather sensitive areas.

Madam Pomfrey had her work cut out for her. She had to wait for the hangovers to end, since it was a whiskey made from a blend of magical grains that caused all her wand diagnostics and treatments to throw up errors. Without proper information, she had to poke and prod and work using the manual method.

She was so peeved at the actions of the three of them that she had to act. Madam Pomfrey invited every Weasley she could find to demonstrate various Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products under the open Hospital Wing windows that Snape and James Potter had been positioned closest to. She silenced all outgoing noises. Professor McGonagall heard about this and made a show of purchasing as many explosive fireworks and pranks as she could, after demanding demonstrations of the products, of course. Professor Flitwick did the same thing, and roped the Headmaster into looking too. However, the old wizard was more interested in the candy displays and bought out the entire lemon, lime, and raspberry display. Throughout the rest of the day, there were scattered reports of a large canary with the oddest twinkling eyes and feathers trimmed in the most unique colors ever seen in various places in Hogwarts.

The twins sold out their entire inventory in six hours of non-stop noise, explosions, music, and flashes of light. There had been at least seven runs back to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes to restock the temporary remote location. To the three detainees in Madam Pomfrey’s care, it was quite a horrendous experience but her point was well made by the end of that six hours.

The next day, the mediwitch received a beautiful card from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. It sang a sweet song, danced a merry jig around her breakfast plate and burst into a shower of confetti accompanied by the mellisonant music of unseen harps. The confetti melted away to reveal a certificate for the largest gift basket that Honeydukes carried and a discount for any Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products for the next three months.

For the rest of the day, Snape and the elder Potters avoided the Infirmary and each other.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

_// Trigger warning – implied defilement of bodies. This guy at the end reminds me of one or two of the convicts I met on the other side of the bars when I worked in a prison – far, far beyond redemption and quite proud of it. The calculation in the back of those eyes can chill you._

“Hey, want company up there?”

Harry looked behind him. He was on the Quidditch pitch after classes had let out for the day. Since he had no detentions to worry about, nobody had the field for a practice session, it wasn’t time for the evening meal yet, and he didn’t feel like starting his homework, he’d decided to go for a fly. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with the same thoughts. There was a figure holding a broom striding toward him. Harry grinned when he saw who it was.

“Sure. Race you up. Three hundred feet. Go!”

Harry jumped on his broom and took off. He ascended in a tight corkscrew and came out in a roll. When he reached three hundred feet, he paused and waited. It took a couple of minutes during which he imagined the reaction he would have gotten from Hermione if she had been riding with him.

“Cheeky snot,” mumbled James as he struggled to catch up. “I wonder where he gets it from?”

James had made a straight-line ascent, but that didn’t help him much as Harry was on his Firebolt. The sheer speed and maneuverability beat every school broom that James had available to choose from. As soon as the school broom sputtered up to where Harry was waiting, James frowned.

“This broom must have been procured by the school the year I started at Hogwarts. It’s slower than … well, let’s just say it’s slow.”

Harry shrugged.

“I’m well aware. My broom, however, isn’t.” So saying, he shot off to the other side of the pitch.

James watched him streak through the air, and shook his head. He was starting to understand how Minnie must have felt all those years ago.

“Not only is he a cheeky snot, he’s a damn show-off, too.” The voice in his head that sounded a lot like Lily said snidely, _And you didn’t do the same thing at his age?_

James decided that he was going to ignore that comment and the laughter in his head at his decision, and decided to try to catch up with his son. He knew that he wasn’t going to, not at the way Harry was flying. He saw several rows of the stands starting to fill up, focusing on the antics the younger Potter was pulling.

“Yes, he’s a damn show-off,” he grumbled. Off in the distance he heard a shout.

“Hey, Harry! Catch!”

Somebody was on the sidelines of the pitch and threw something small in a shallow arc. It wasn’t a Snitch, but it was something about that size. James wondered what Harry was going to do, since he was at a height that the other boy surely couldn’t reach from the ground using arm power alone.

His heart jumped up in his throat as Harry deliberately tipped over into a power dive. Two hundred and fifty, two hundred, one forty, ninety, thirty, ten!

His terrified shout was cut off by the sight of Harry casually plucking whatever it had been easier than if he’d spent some time deliberating over which apple and picked it from some tree somewhere with his feet firmly on the ground. The faint sound of applause came up to him from the stands. Apparently, this was normal behavior for his son and people had come to appreciate it. James gripped the broom handle as tight as he could to stay on and watched Harry twirl in place for a moment to realign himself with his father’s position. Somehow he knew what Harry was going to do.

And sure enough, he pulled several rolls and twists as he ascended back to three hundred feet with James.

“You’re a damn show-off, kid. You know that?”

“I have terrible handwriting and I can’t sing, so I have to have a talent for something. I think it’s genetic.”

James choked.

“Are you saying I’m a show-off, too?”

Harry regarded him with those green eyes. James felt a sense of déjà vu all of a sudden.

“Aren’t you? I’ve heard some of the stories about some of your pranks here in the school. Some bombed pretty spectacularly, too.”

James drew himself up and thrust his nose in the air.

“Lies and calumny! Base traducements and aspersions upon my good character! Who would possibly say such terrible things?”

He was pulling on every pureblood act he could remember between the things he and Sirius had acted out for others. Harry rolled his eyes, and as casually as he caught whatever that had been a few moments ago he shut James down cold.

“Who told me about the pranks? Professor McGonagall.”

“Oh,” James deflated quickly. “Well, okay, I’ll grant you that.”

Harry’s eyes were laughing at James now.

“Still want to race?”

James eyed the broom his son was perched on.

“Noooo, not with that little show you put on. What is that broom, anyway?”

“It’s a Firebolt. International standard racer.”

“Who makes it?”

“Ellerby and Spudmore, in the Black Forest area.”

“It’s a nice looking broom.”

Harry grinned.

“It’s gotten me out of a few scrapes. I can outfly a dragon on it.”

“A drag… you’ve got to be pulling my leg now.”

“Nope, I’ll show you the memory sometime. That was not a fun day, let me tell you.”

“...uh…you’re not having me on?”

Harry snorted at the expression on James’ pale face.

“I’m totally telling the truth. It was pretty scary, no lie. Although to be granted, mum probably shouldn’t see it or even hear about it.”

James winced so hard he could feel his facial muscles sob in agony.

“Nooooooo, she might have something loud to say about that if she found out.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, OUT-FLYING A DRAGON?!”

Hermione winced. Maybe the slip about how Harry got through the First Task in the Triwizard Tournament wasn’t a good idea. Lily looked like she was going to retrieve the Goblet of Fire from wherever it was kept in between Tournaments and give it a new permanent job as a chamberpot.

“Um, well, you sort of had to be there to see it.”

Lily glared at the younger witch, eyes sparking. Hermione imagined green-toned flames roaring up anywhere those sparks landed, then spawning more flames. She shifted from foot to foot a bit nervously, hoping that the older witch had her attention diverted by something else. At this point, anything else would be fine by her.

“OOOOOHHH! I’m going to choke Dumbledore with his own beard. If that’s not enough hair, I’ll rip out every hair on his body to weave a rope to do it with!”

There was a moment of silence from Lily Potter as she stewed. Hermione was starting to get more uneasy, since that silence was all too familiar to her from someone else with green eyes.

“I know!” Hermione jumped at the sudden exclamation. “Dumbledore has a Pensieve.” Lily pointed at the younger witch. The finger stabbed toward her hard enough to make her flinch again. “You’re with me. I want to see your memory of this.”

Hermione knew this was not going to end well.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“So we’re agreed? No mentioning dragons or desperate flights or golden eggs?”

Harry seemed quite insistent as he spoke, and after the story James had just heard he really couldn’t disagree.

“Agreed. This is man-t0-man. If your mum asked, we talked about stupid things Sirius did in school. That’ll distract her. It might piss her off to be reminded of it, but nowhere like this will. This is going to mean someone is going to suffer The Inquistion. No one expects The Inquistion. It just jumps out at you.”

“You should mention those things anyway, so I’ll know. If mum heard about the dragon, I don’t think any conversation we had would end well. I pity the fool that has to explain it to her.”

James looked at the expression on his son’s face. His brow furrowed in speculation.

“Somehow, I get the feeling that there’s more to what you’re saying that you’ve had to deal with than a nesting dragon. Am I right?”

“Well…”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“Ronald, _don’t mention_ _that_ _…_ ”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, A BASILISK?”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

In his office, Albus Dumbledore shivered hard enough to almost shake his half-moon glasses off his face. For some reason, the coldest feeling he’d ever felt just skated down his spine. He tried to put it off as he continued the impromptu staff meeting.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“Oh, shite. Bugger me with a cactus.”

Harry’s eyes jerked to his father’s suddenly stiffened posture.

“What?”

“We need to land, quickly!”

“What? Why? We just got up here.”

“Lily’s about to rip someone a new one. Raw, bleeding, and very painful new one. Gotta go and catch her before someone dies!”

James tore off. Harry took after him, since the older man had leftbefore he could ask James how he knew. He passed James on the way down and was waiting as James landed with a scowl.

“Damn show-off.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be jealous. Now what?”

“Now we follow the trail of destruction if we don’t catch her first. There are a few reasons you don’t piss off a redhead.”

“Is this wisdom learned from showing off while you were in school or something Sirius did?”

James winced.

“Um, both?”

They ran through the corridors to the quarters James and Lily had been given, soon finding a very shell-shocked looking Ron Weasley. Strangely, he was ignoring the very thick chicken sandwich he carried in his hand. He was mumbling something that neither of them caught as they zipped by.

“That was odd.”

“What?” James asked, a bit out of breath.

“Tell you later.” Harry sped up.

“Okay,” James gasped. Not only was the kid a damn show-off, he could run like the wind. Harry wasn’t even breathing hard. On top of that, James was starting to itch in unmentionable places. His feet, too, which was quite odd actually. Between his toes. His nose and his bellybutton. There was a spot or two on his shoulder blades that was really needing a scratch, like he’d been sweating and needed a shower. His head itched too.

Well, he could at least run and scratch his head too, so he did.

Or tried.

Every time he put a hand up to scratch, his hand was thrown away forcefully. Harry noticed.

“What’s with you, dad?”

“Itches and I can’t scratch.”

“What? What’s this got to do with mum’s temper?”

“I don’t have a clue, but it’s really irritating,” James gasped out.

“Worse than her temper? I’m just asking since I really don’t know.”

Damn the kid. He could talk normally while running.

“Did you pull a prank on me?” Every time he tried to scratch somewhere, his hands would fly away to his sides.

“Nope, haven’t had time.”

Lily wasn’t in the assigned quarters. The paintings in the corridor looked at the pair strangely, with some shrinking back.

“I don’t see her, dad. Which way are we going now?”

“Play it safe. We should go to the Headmaster’s office. Lily would head there first to give him a piece of her mind. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done it.”

Harry nodded and darted away. James sighed. How many gears did the kid have?

“Sod it. I’m walking. If somebody dies from being stupid, then I’ll hide the body. If there’s more than one body, I’ll ask Hagrid. I’m sure he’s got something that likes meat. If he asks why there’s a body, I’ll just tell him they pissed Lily off. He’ll understand.”

He was trying to walk straight but these _damned_ itches! They wouldn’t stop!

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“Filius, do you have anything?”

“There are several seventh years of my Ravenclaws that have disappeared. None of their belongings have disappeared. Clothes, books, trunks, schoolwork assignments, personal things like razors or soaps and the like. Everything is there. Well, their wands are missing but they would be expected to have those with them at all times.”

“Pomona?”

“Same as Filius. Disappearances, but belongings not missing. No signs of foul play in the Hufflepuff spaces. My greenhouses are not showing anything, and the carnivorous,venomous, or poisonous plants are not showing any signs of being used for foul play either.”

Dumbledore nodded at that. He hadn’t thought of that yet, but trust the Herbology professor to think of something like that.

“Severus?”

The Potions Master still looked distracted by whatever he and the Potters had talked about that resulted in that quite lovely sales demonstration by the Weasley Twins, but he spoke up.

“I have one student missing. A sixth year but as with the others, there are no clues. If anyone knows anything more about this, whether concerning Slytherin House or any of the other Houses, they are saying nothing.”

Dumbledore sighed. Of course they wouldn’t, until they calculated how to use this for their various advantages.

“Minerva?”

The Deputy Headmistress spoke in her role as the Gryffindor Head of House.

“I have three missing. Two sixth years and a seventh year. There seems to be some disquiet about something to do with house parties, but that’s something I don’t think has any bearing on this.”

“And I believe all our prefects are accounted for?”

McGonagall nodded.

“Have they mentioned anything?”

“There’s been some question about some activities the missing students had been doing over the last few weeks. Planning for a club of some kind, but they didn’t want a lot of details known. Most of those now missing had mentioned having a picnic yesterday and had been seen gathering supplies and baskets appropriate to that purpose. They seemed to be looking forward to this for some days apparently. I asked those in my house about this club, but as I say they didn’t want details to be known yet and cited unfinished preparations and planning. Their grades have not been affected to date, so I haven’t pushed for more information yet.”

Snape snorted.

“Dunderheads, the lot. I would be willing to bet they were into something illicit or doing something underhanded.”

McGonagall sighed. He got on her nerves sometimes more than the students did, but he could have a point.

“It’s possible, Severus, but we don’t know.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“In any event, we need to find them. It’s not the first time students have gone missing during the history of this castle’s use as a school and probably not the last. Maintain our schedule as normal, but be watchful. Something might come to light.”

Flitwick grunted.

“At least you didn’t say ‘constant vigilance.’ That phrase got a bit overused in the last few years and by ‘overused’ I mean every five minutes.”

“True, Filius, but still Alastor Moody had a point in these times,” Dumbledore nodded in agreement. “Who knows what those children have gotten up to?”

The teaching staff gave a concerted sigh at that question, with some of the exhalations being more forceful than others. A few shaken heads accompanied the thoughts of the more creative high jinks some had witnessed the aftermaths of. Professor McGonagall thought of some of her own as a Hogwarts student and mentally chuckled. Her eyes were met by Pomona Sprout in a knowing glance. They had a few doozies to remember.

“In any event, staff, we need to find them. Ask questions but do so with as little disruption to the school’s routine as possible.”

“As if Potter and his merry band of marauding misfits doesn’t disrupt it enough as it is,” Snape muttered. Several people around him seemed to have trouble suppressing the laughter or rolling eyes and Dumbledore chose to pretend that he didn’t hear it. It was true enough, after all.

He dismissed the meeting and sat back to review some of the ever-present parchmentwork as the others stood up to leave for their own work. The door to his office opened up a bit quicker than he was used to hearing and the room’s ambient temperature seemed to change quickly. Looking up, Dumbledore saw his staff quickly part. The reason for that rather fast rending was quickly evident, as Lily Potter approach as if her hair was on fire.

He looked again. Dumbledore wasn’t too sure that it wasn’t. From the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Snape stare and practically run out of the office; he didn’t know the man could move that fast. Most of the others followed him, although not as quickly. Professor McGonagall stayed.

“Albus Dumbledore! Explain yourself! Explain yourself before I turn you into a newt!”

“Lily, my dear, what possibly could be the matter? Why threaten me with such a thing and explanation for what?”

Sparks jumped around Lily’s clenched fist.

“Want to explain to me why my son had to kill a basilisk at twelve and out-fly a dragon at fourteen? Want to do that before or after I turn you into a newt?”

Minerva McGonagall decided to sit down for this. A discreet twitch of her wand made a steaming cup of tea appear before her as she looked up at him. She debated whether a wee dram would go amiss. Considering the things that he had done under his authority as headmaster in those incidents, she surely wanted to know what he would say to Lily as well. Albus had been remarkably close-lipped about it for a man that liked to hear the sound of his own voice sometimes. She absently wondered if Albus was going to get better after Lily got through with him. The old man looked at her with a slightly betrayed look on his face, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, don’t look at me. I didn’t tell her about it. Besides, you know what my thoughts were about it at the time. I didn’t like it.”

She looked at Lily, who stood there with her empty hands on her hips. Good. At least she didn’t have a wand available, at least not yet, and there was a desk in between Lily and the Headmaster. As satisfying as it might be to see her whack him a good one, there was enough space between them to give him time to duck.

 _Maybe and maybe not,_ she thought after looking at the rage on the younger woman’s face. From the look on his face, he was thinking the exact same thing.

“Why don’t you have a seat and let’s discuss what’s on your mind?” he said, a bit nervously.

Lily’s eyes narrowed. The others could practically see her mentally computing distances, angles, and speed of approach like the machines in those strange muggle war movies in the forties and fifties. After a moment, she sat. Everyone noticed that Lily sat on the edge of the cushions with her attention on the old man behind the desk.

Professor McGonagall took a sip of her tea. This was going to be entertaining.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

James had lost track of Harry a couple of corridors ago. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the kid knew some passageways that wasn’t around when he was a student here. What he wouldn’t do to have the Map right now. He and Lily really needed to track down Sirius and Remus and find out where they were, too.

For that matter, a nice hot soak and a cold butterbeer wouldn’t go amiss either. He didn’t recommend coming back from the dead since his running stamina seemed to have been destroyed. James felt like he’d been dragged backward through a knothole.

They hadn’t had the chance to do more than take a long nap, have that _discussion_ with Sniv… Snape, deal with that monster of a hangover, and try to come to terms with being alive again. So much to do.

The hell with this. He was going to walk. The Headmaster’s office was most likely in the same place it was the last time he was there. If whoever roused Lily’s ire found themselves without their balls in the meantime, well, they probably deserved it.

Damn this itch! He couldn’t scratch anything!

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Harry saw Hermione just ahead and called out for her. He skidded to a stop as she turned quickly and dodged her flailing arms for once.

“Hermione!”

She jumped into his arms and hugged him. Despite the drama of the situation, he held her close.

“Harry! Lily’s gone plumb loco! She’s gunning for the Headmaster!”

_What the hell is ‘plumb loco?’_

“What?”

Somewhere in between the start of the hug and the question, James had puffed his way around the corner to hear her answer.

“Ron and I made the mistake to tell her about the dragon and the basilisk!”

Harry’s eyes went wide. James perked his head up while leaning on the wall to catch his breath.

“Dragon? Basilisk?” No, Harry hadn’t just told him about the dragon. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

They looked at him and spoke rather quickly.

“Tell you later.”

Harry took off again, dragging Hermione after him and leaving James staring after them. James moaned at the sight, seeing that Hermione apparently could keep up with him.

“Damn show-off kids.”

He tried and failed to scratch a new itch as he ran after them, cursing.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“So you’re saying that…”

Lily was interrupted by the door opening up again. Dumbledore was startled, as he didn’t remember flicking his wand to open the door and apparently Minerva didn’t do it either. That door was supposed to remain locked at all times from the outside, with only him being able to unlock it and Minerva in certain cases. Now it had opened up for the second time in short order.

What was going on here?

In any event, he was surprised to see Mister Potter the younger and Miss Granger tumble through the doorway and trip to the floor with a moan from him. James Potter ambled through with a quick “If that keeps up, we won’t have to worry about grandchildren. I think you need to make it up to him with some tender loving care there.” Hermione turned red.

Both were picked up from the floor and James looked up to see Lily. He released a gusty sigh upon seeing her face, but tried to hide as much as he could. He didn’t see the sense in tempting fate.

“So, no maiming or dismemberment yet? At least in here? Did we get here in time?”

Lily’s answer was icy.

“Of course you did, sweetheart. We’re going to make really good use of _Professor Dumbledore’s Pensieve._ After that finishes, we’re going to have a _little talk_ with him.”

James winced. Whenever Lily got that tone of voice, whoever claimed fault found themselves in a world of hurt. Usually it was him, and he started wondering what he could have done in the short time they’d been back to cause it. Then he started wondering if there was something he forgot to do before that snakefaced bastard knocked on their door that Halloween night. Not finding anything, he started wondering if it was something from before that. Sure, there was that prank that made her arse gain an inch or two right before that formal event a week before Harry was conceived, but he groveled for enough time to pay for it. He thought. That had been a very nice fit to that dress, even if she’d had to be careful when sitting.

Lily definitely had a cracking arse either way, he thought, but he wasn’t going to pull that particular prank again. He wasn’t even going to mention it. Oh, no. He liked his balls unshrunken, thank you.

“So, um, what kind of talk and what about?”

Whatever it was, he didn’t expect the answer she gave him. The words hissed through gritted teeth, accompanied by green-tinted visual daggers aimed at Dumbledore.

“Harry killing basilisks and out-flying dragons in a magically bound Tournament.”

“Oh.”

James didn’t know what to think, since he was still trying to keep up physically and mentally. The itches didn’t help either. He turned to look at Harry, who looked like he was trying to think of ways to be anywhere but here in the Headmaster’s office. From the expression on Hermione’s face, she couldn’t think of anything either. In other circumstances, James might have found this quite hilarious.

“Well, might as well sit down, son. I don’t think any of us is going to get out of this and frankly I’m pretty curious, too.”

McGonagall just twitched more teacups into existence and said nothing. This was going to be something to see.

There was a chuckle from the corner of the office. All eyes turned that way to see the Sorting Hat.

“The basilisk story is a thrilling tale. Am I right, Fawkes? You were there, too.”

The ageless phoenix trilled an affirmative reply. Everyone present thought it sounded a bit smug. Most turned from the Hat and looked at Harry again, who squirmed and shot a pleading glance at Hermione. A look reminiscent of a landed trout answered him.

Lily leaned forward. Her eyes locked onto the Headmaster’s and for the first time, he completely understood why Severus had moved out of his office as quickly as he did. He felt remarkably like a mouse staring down a giant snake.

“Now, Albus, about that Pensieve? I have questions. _A lot_ of questions. Start talking.”

For the first time in over seventy-five years, Dumbledore had problems deciding what exactly to say.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

In a darkened chamber, the bodies of several Hogwarts students with a taste for the illicit lay in repose. They had been arranged in a star formation, with the heads at the center and the feet shooting outward to form the rays of the star. Five more bodies had been positioned to connect the rays in the same manner as a spider’s web, and it didn’t take much consideration on the part of the arranger to visualize more sections and more connections.

Elgon Jarmar would need more bodies for that, however. No matter. There were plenty of unwilling volunteers within easy reach should he require that.

The murderer of the inhabitants of the Libations Suite shook his head. Well, some of the students he’d encountered after he left that little adventure had some nasty defenses. That little blonde girl that noticed him had almost gotten the better of him and the obliviation of his presence had nearly drained him. He’d never seen such mental defenses. In fact, he wasn’t too sure _what_ that was in the girl’s mind, but whatever it was had given him a hell of a headache and he’d taken a massive hit to his magical core in the process. He wasn’t sure that the obliviation had worked, either.

It had taken all Jagmar had to Disillusion her after cutting her up with a knife and stumbling away under an invisibility cloak. For a while there, he wasn’t completely sure he was going to wake up if he laid up in his hideaway in the castle. The Ward Obscurus Runes recently carved into his skin at several locations on his body and mixed with dragon’s blood and various dyes hid him from Hogwarts’ wards for a limited period so long as he remained still and silent. As long as the scars left from the carving felt hot, then he knew the runes were working. As the others were completely dead and not mostly dead, the wards around the castle ignored them. In the privacy of his thoughts, he wondered if simple tattoos would have served the purpose as well as the colored keloids that had been left behind. They itched.

Regardless of how they irritated him, after a good hour or two of debating with himself Jagmar had decided that it was more or less safe for him to catch a nap without worrying about whether it was going to be a permanent one. The nap was more of a coma, if a short one of two days. It was a good thing he’d made provisions on his work so things wouldn’t be interrupted too badly.

The arrangement of the bodies had been secured by a runic array that prevented them from being moved or otherwise disturbed. That arrangement and the bodies themselves had been put under stasis, with all the flesh, blood, bile, and everything that made up a wizard’s or witch’s body there without anything missing aside from the spark of life. When he was ready to proceed with the next step, soon to come, then everything would be there as if he’d just made the first cut mere moments ago.

He regarded a few of the females and one of the males. Too bad they had to be in the ritual’s specified condition. He would have liked to sample them. Maybe later, if there was enough left from the needs of the upcoming ritual. If not, well, there was plenty of unknowing candidates running around. It didn’t matter if they were living or not when he made his selections. It had been a while for him, so maybe a little pickiness was out of the question.

Jagmar regarded the bodies. He needed ten more before he could perform the ward busting ritual his Master required. The Dark Lord had been specific in his instructions and had allowed for a certain amount of time to do it. He looked at the calendar he’d stolen in Hogsmeade and nodded. The date he saw meant he had three days to get the bodies and complete his work.

Plenty of time. He’d pick out a nice one to take in addition to enjoy. Celebration of a job well done would only be expected by his Master, so long as he didn’t let it interfere with his assignment.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

“Miss Lovegood, it isn’t really feasible…”

A dreamy voice interrupted the mediwitch. It was not quite as strong as usual, but it was clearly heard.

“Not for running, no, but a short walk to the Great Hall would be fine. Exercise is good for the body, after all. Besides that, I admit that I miss seeing who found the Rainbow Crêpe Krampamous every morning. It’s very entertaining to see.”

“The what?” The question came out before Madam Pomfrey could stop it.

“The Rainbow Crêpe Krampamous. It only reveals itself in the mornings, since it works at night to collect the overwrought thoughts of those in despair and soothe them.” Luna paused to think. The expression on her face appeared quite adorable to the mediwitch, but she knew she was going to regret the explanation sooner or later. “Although at times, it will show up during the mid-day meal, depending on certain circumstances. It so loves butter, cream, cheese, and other dairy products. Also sugar and other sweet foods but can easily subsist on skin oils of those who overindulge in general. It sucks them from every pore in the skin after being drawn to them. It’s similar to the way pheromones work.”

Madam Pomfrey suddenly thought about the very large and very rich chocolate cake that she and Pomona Sprout had split between themselves last night. It had been quite excellent and the frosting had been _simply divine_ _._ The two witches had moaned at the exquisite taste of that cake. Her voice was rather hesitant, but Luna seemed not to notice at all.

“And what happens then?”

The mediwitch was not so sure she wanted to know, but had to ask. In for a knut, in for a Galleon.

“It’s quite simple. The oils are drained and replaced with the secretions of the Krampamous. It’s sticky, warm, and full of the Krampamous’ genetic material. They have to come from somewhere, right? It’s like any other creature that procreates and the Krampamous quite enjoys it.”

“Ah… okay, then.”

Poppy Pomfrey was not going to even look at a slice of chocolate cake for the next six months after that statement, if ever.

“Sometimes there are two or three on the same person. It’s very rare, but then it shows a very satisfactory overindulgence had previously occurred, almost orgasmic in nature. I’ve been studying it for a full spread in the Quibbler for Daddy, but it’s also frustrating to find enough people to interview that have two or three attached to them.”

Luna cast a speculative look at the mediwitch and raised an eyebrow. Her face took on a surprised air and Madam Pomfrey could see the light of questioning shine in the little blonde’s eyes.

“In fact…”

“In fact, Miss Lovegood, a little exercise would be good for you. When Mister Longbottom gets here, as we both know he will, I’ll be releasing you to his care temporarily. You are to walk slowly to the Great Hall, eat a large meal and return for the night. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Miss Lovegood.”

The mediwitch hustled back to her office before Luna could ask any questions, wondering whether cheesecake day every week with Minerva was really a good idea.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Severus Snape had a problem.

Well, suffice it to say that he had more than a problem.

He had to remain in the castle while Dumbledore was in charge as headmaster, or the aurors would get him. Lily had beat the shite out of him during that... _discussion..._ after it came out that under the terms of his employment contract with Hogwarts, the Ministry couldn’t send its law-enforcement arm after him while he worked in the castle under the aegis of sanctuary. The Ministry couldn’t interfere with Hogwarts, after all.

Every time he physically left in the past to answer the Dark Lord’s call, it was nominally by direction of Dumbledore in his role as a spy. It was only under those terms that the protection extended past the wards of the castle and its grounds. The magical terms required that. It grated on Snape, to have to act like a teenager requiring permission to go on a date.

He grimaced. Time with the Dark Lord was anything other than a date. He rarely got dinner, either.

Before this astounding return occurred, with the Potters safely dead, he didn’t have a lot to worry about from the DMLE aiming for him. As long as he could say that he was acting under the knowledge and permission of Albus Dumbledore, he was safe from arrest and prosecution. It was not unlike diplomatic immunity, in a way, when the old man had taken him under the sanctuary rules of Hogwarts in the early eighties. Given that Hogwarts and her magic existed before the Ministry of Magic, then the rules of magic held sway over his sanctuary and not the Ministry.

They were bound just as much as he was, even if he did walk a tightrope every day.

The stress manifested itself in the abusive behavior that he had grown used to and grown to like. It was much like his father had been and seeing Potter under the Sorting Hat at eleven was too much like that detested Potter he first met. He’d never looked back from that first impression. It wasn’t like there was any parents to hold him to account, right?

He didn’t like most Gryffindors, anyway. It worked out fine, in his opinion.

His problem lay in what he would do now? Snape rotated a still-sore shoulder. Even drunk off her arse, Lily packed a mean punch and finding out how her precious son had been treated in her absence had set off a firestorm. He supposed that they had a point about public appearances and setting examples for the younger ones – not that he was overly concerned about anyone but his Slytherins. Even some of them didn’t rate much discussion from him either.

It had been a very private… discussion… even after Lily had broken her hand on his jaw. By that point, they’d been shouting at each other in a drunken haze and totally forgotten that they was supposed to be two wizards and a witch. So, their wands had lain forgotten.

After they had been released, they agreed to avoid each other. Privately, Snape thought to himself that getting his arse handed to him by a five foot, nine inch witch that was five inches shorter and half his weight was embarrassing. It was worse when she did it without magic and drunker than he was. Apparently the aging he’d undergone since Halloween of ‘81 wasn’t a factor for them either. The only bright spot in the whole ordeal was that James was just as drunk as he was and tripped over his own feet after a punch from the Potions master. Potter had fallen and knocked himself out on the stone walls of the castle. Somewhere in there, something had fallen off a shelf, landed on him and broke a rib or two. After that, Lily was incensed and had her say.

So, they avoided each other. He was still his abrasive self in his classes and elsewhere, but he more or less left the Potter brat alone. Snape was willing to concede that. It wasn’t like he was the only Gryffindor in Hogwarts.

Then there was the problem of the missing students. What had the idiots done now and where were they? At least he was only missing one dunderhead, but that one was causing problems for all the rest of the Snakes in the dungeons. He didn’t recall any issues with said dunderhead – in fact, she had some of the highest grades in the House – and was anything but dumb, except for whatever she’d done to go missing. Therefore, she fit the definition.

He snorted. Maybe the house elves could tell him something. He hated playing detective, but needs must.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Albus Dumbledore had a problem.

The problem was leaning over his desk glaring at him, all five foot nine of her. He sighed in reluctance and looked at Minerva. She was no help at all and seemed quite content to let him flounder.

In fact, flounder just like he’d let quite a few misbehaving students called to see him in this very office. He couldn’t say he appreciated her amusement at the comparison all that much. Her silence and the slight quirk at the corner of her mouth spoke louder than some of the harangues he’d had to suffer through from her.

“Very well, Lily. One moment.”

The Sorting Hat chuckled at his expression as he approached the glass fronted cabinet that he stored the Pensieve in, and he glared at the ancient magical artifact but didn’t say anything. Fawkes however, laughed in the way of phoenixes that had found something quite amusing.

Dumbledore grumbled under his breath as he took out the Pensieve.

This was not going to be good. He took stock of the spacious room’s current inhabitants: himself, Minerva McGonagall, Misters Potter the elder and the younger, Lily Potter, Miss Granger. All except for himself was waiting for him to get on with it. He looked at the younger Potter.

“Are you aware of how to extract a memory, Mister Potter?”

Harry nodded, quite aware of the fulminating look his mother was giving him. He hoped that severe look was because of whatever set her off and not because of anything he’d done.

“Then Mrs. Potter,” everyone noticed the form of address but said nothing, “what would you have?”

“Basilisk memory first,” Lily ground out.

Harry gulped. Hermione took his hand and murmured, “You’ve told me what happened. Show them everything, from Lockhart to Fawkes taking you out of the Chamber.”

He nodded, thinking of that terrible day but she stopped him as he raised his wand.

“No, wait. Show them Dobby getting freed from Lucius Malfoy, too.”

“Are you sure? All of that together is going to take a while.”

“It’ll help.”

Harry acquiesced. A few minutes of concentration later, the silvery sparkles of a bright memory rested in the stone bowl. The carved runes on the edge glimmered in the magical light, waiting to be put to use. Dumbledore considered the group for a moment.

“I normally do not utilize this many people within the display of a memory even though this model is more than capable of it. When we enter, please remain together and remember that we cannot affect anything that happens as it has already occurred.”

Everyone nodded. Harry held Hermione close and spoke to the group.

“This will be hard to see. I’ve told you about it, and this was when you lay petrified from the basilisk,” Lily’s jaw set at hearing this, “and seeing it is a lot harder than hearing about it.”

“You’ll be with me,” Hermione whispered in his ear and he relaxed a bit.

Harry looked up at the group waiting for him.

“Let’s be about it,” he sighed, not looking forward to this. He and Hermione stuck a finger each into the bowl at the same moment, with the others following suit soon thereafter.

The group landed at a still scene, with two boys that momentarily revealed themselves to be a younger Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Lily looked at the younger version of her son, seeing the thin frame and shorter stature than expected for that age. Her lips tightened, but thankfully for present-day Harry’s relative peace of mind, he didn’t notice this. James did and gripped her hand.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. _The Dursleys_ and we will have a little talk soon.” The soft, almost indistinct words in her ear were rough and full of promise.

The group followed the two boys to the office for that year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. There was a bit of discussion and soon the door opened to reveal Gilderoy Lockhart. At the sight of the man, Professor McGonagall sniffed in disdain. It had been several years now, but she still couldn’t stand the sight of the cowardly idiot. He had caused more trouble than the students, and that was saying something. She glanced at James Potter. If he decided to teach Harry all his tricks, it would be time for a vacation. If any grandchildren learned, then it would be time to retire.

She discarded that thought and turned to the business at hand. They all watched the ‘professor’ give his spiel to try to explain away why he was packing and the boys getting the drop on him. McGonagall snorted at that, pleased. She was not too happy about the cowardice on display from a nominal Hogwarts professor, but the getting the better of part was something she could get behind.

The use of Parselmouth surprised the elder Potters for a moment, until James shrugged.

“You wouldn’t have been the first Potter to speak to snakes. Plus, you might have inherited it from your grandmother Dorea. She was a Black, and the trait is particularly strong in the Black family.”

“Really?”

James shrugged again. There was more important things to do than family history at the moment, and Lockhart’s sheer stupidity was taking precedence.

Lily was getting more and more mad as she watched. What kind of incompetent fools was Dumbledore hiring for the post? The fiery redhead watched as Lockhart tried to turn the drop back on the boys and described his _modus operandi_ to date. Beside her, James was muttering sulfurous words under his breath. Behind him, Harry and Hermione was taking careful mental notes on what he said for future reference and use. As the elder Potter was being quite descriptive in his verbal arrangements, it made for a comprehensive list.

When the memory charm backfired and the ceiling collapsed, there was a moment’s silence.

“Damn shame those rocks didn’t bounce off his head. You couldn’t have shoved him toward them, Harry?”

“I was a bit preoccupied right then, Dad.”

“Understandable. Still a damn shame. Try to remember that next time something like that happens.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Good lad.”

Lily and Hermione rolled their eyes in perfect unison. Behind him, McGonagall made a mental note to have Filius go over the battle applications of the Accio charm with young Potter.

As the younger Harry needed to go on alone, the group followed. They had earlier winced at the sight of the shed snake skin and the unease they all felt at the sheer size, even Harry, had foreshadowed what they knew was going to appear at some point in the future. Lily in particular had gasped out loud and hugged Harry close.

The rest of the memory went as Harry knew that it would. He led them to a part of the Chamber that he vaguely remembered that he hadn’t been in during the conversation with the shade of Tom Riddle and the fight with the basilisk. Unfortunately it was close to where the still body of Ginny Weasley lay with her life force being siphoned off by the horcruxed diary. They could see the flow of Ginny’s being trickling out of the small body.

With a start, Harry realized that it made sense that this area had been undisturbed. Ginny hadn’t been crushed under the weight of an enraged basilisk chasing Harry around the confines of the Chamber the first time around. Had that happened… Well, he didn’t really want to consider it.

Watching the younger Harry begging Ginny to be all right, the bragging of the young Tom Riddle and the revelation that he was Lord Voldemort, the entrance of the admittedly grand and imposing snake and the fight was really messing with Harry. He sat down heavily on the hard floor. A distant corner of his mind wondered why it felt so hard if this was a memory, but it was distracted by Hermione grabbing him and holding on for dear life.

Lily and James stood clutching each other in terror at the sight. Their baby boy was fighting a damn big and dangerous creature being egged on by someone that was menacing and evil, even through the filter of a memory. The darkness of the Chamber served to unsettle them more and the echoes of the basilisk’s roars of anger and pain from the injuries inflicted by Fawkes bounced from the stone walls. They didn’t know where to look first. Lily cried out at every close call and James joined her.

The cheering-on of the basilisk by Tom Riddle prompted McGonagall to stare at him more closely. Her mind, when not shuddering at the events playing out in front of her, was making connections. She had been part of the staff at Hogwarts before Riddle had even arrived at the school, although not as Deputy Headmistress. However, she remembered the bright student he’d been. Seeing now what his shade had told the younger Harry, she realized now the preparations the younger Riddle had been making under everyone’s noses from the clues and little things that had bothered her all those years ago. She resolved to go over all this later if she made it through watching this fight.

Albus Dumbledore was still shocked at the scene. He had roughly expected the size of the basilisk. It was bigger than Harry had estimated at the time, but the old man could forgive that. It wasn’t like the boy had a chance to measure the beast as if he was going to sew a fine set of robes for it, after all. It truly was a fearsome beast and while he wasn’t afraid of snakes, the old man could go without having anything to do with one quite happily. Considering the size of this one, it made plenty of sense to feel that way. Young Harry was definitely a Gryffindor, displaying the bravery and courage it took to fight it while still scared.

Hermione didn’t say anything. The intelligent part of her mind knew that this was in the past and Harry was here in her mind, unhurt and in good health, and perfectly fine. The more primal part of her mind was gibbering in shock and fear, remembering the fleeting glimpse she’d caught in the mirror before her petrification. Oddly, she was able to at least watch the fight with some tiny level of detachment which frankly shocked her. She pulled Harry even closer to her.

Harry was trying to breathe. In between the remembered shock and fear from the appearance of the giant snake and Hermione’s rather good impression of a python, he was doing his best to survive this memory. If Hermione got any closer, she was going to be wearing his robes while he was still in them. Somewhere in his mind, something asked if this would really be a problem.

“Hermione,” he squeaked. “Need to breathe!”

It took a moment but she eased off a bit, still shaking. It was enough to release his arms and throw them around her. Together, they shook as the basilisk was stabbed through the roof of its mouth by the Sword of Gryffindor and the fang pierced Harry’s arm. Without thought, Hermione placed the fingers of one hand over the scar left from that.

The tension in the room only ratcheted after the death of the basilisk. The taunts hitting a weary and dying Harry seemed to hit the others watching, with screams coming from Lily and Hermione and outraged gasps from Professor McGonagall. Watching Harry struggle over to Ginny’s prone body was almost physical agony to those watching.

The moment that Harry stabbed the diary with the basilisk fang after Fawkes cried into the wound felt practically anticlimactic after all the drama that had gone on before. The phoenix travel was exhilarating to all, even if it wasn’t true travel. At least they could feel the excitement Harry had felt at the time.

In the memory’s version of the Headmaster’s office afterwards, Lily turned to Harry.

“Harry, there can’t be more? When did you get treatment?”

“There’s more to see, Mum. Just wait.”

She stared at him.

“Really. Not much more, I promise.”

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. He could see the tremble in her lips just before she engulfed both Harry and Hermione in a mother’s hug. The tears broke free and fell. James came over to whisper in her ear.

“Lils, he’s okay. It was bad, but he’s all right. There’s more to see.”

Lily nodded and slowly released Harry to look up and see Lucius Malfoy sneering at the battered book that memory Harry had just given him. The house elf behind him looked downtrodden. This distracted her a bit, but she was surprised to see the head of the Malfoy family throw the book at the elf and storm off.

There was surprise and a bit of snickering from James to see the smug expression on Harry’s face as the house elf opened the book to see the filthy sock hidden inside. They all heard the wonder in the little creature’s voice.

“Master has given Dobby a sock! Dobby is free!”

It didn’t take long for the rush of violent expressions on Lucius Malfoy’s face to cascade over his face. Everyone but Harry gasped to hear the start of the Killing Curse fall from the blond man’s lips but everyone was shocked to see him get blown arse over teakettle by Dobby.

“You shall not harm Harry Potter!”

Apparently from what the gathered viewers could see, Malfoy was just as shocked as they.

"You shall go now," they heard the elf order. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now.”

This proclamation was met by cheers.

“You tell him, Dobby! You tell that overblown bastard where to go!” James crowed. As Lucius Malfoy made his escape, Lily chuckled. There were still tears on her face, but the sight of the house elf slamming the irritating man to the far wall had improved her mood for now.

In the next moment, they found themselves back in the Headmaster’s real office. Lily noticed that Dumbledore was glancing her way with a bit less than his usual calmness and she decided to let him stew.

“Next memory, Harry.”

“Huh?”

“Dragon. Triwizard Tournament. Don’t even think of arguing.”

James leaned over toward Harry.

“Son, it’s no use. You’re not getting out of it no matter what, so you may as well surrender gracefully. Trust me, she can be very inventive in her punishments.”

He grimaced. Apparently, he just realized that the itches he’d been suffering didn’t follow him into pensieve memory viewing. Now that he was back, so were the itches with a vengeance. James yelped and interrupted whatever he was going to say. Everyone else watched as he tried to scratch everywhere and his hands became magically compelled to zoom away from wherever he sent them.

Lily stared at him.

“James, I don’t think this is the time for… whatever that is.”

“Disco dancing?” Harry chirped, amused.

“Reminds of this lovely group I was backstage to see once decade ago,” Dumbledore smiled fondly. “A construction worker, a… policeman, I think it was, a cowboy and something else I’ve since forgotten. Such entertainment on that bus, too.”

Everyone stared at him, which he didn’t notice.

“I think it must be chaos, mayhem, and havoc. _Right, James?_ ” Hermione said, her eyes boring into James’ with the most direct glare he’d seen since the last time he had to sit in Professor McGonagall’s office.

He looked at said Professor, who looked back with distinct amusement. She let him suffer before saying to Hermione.

“I think he’s had enough for now, Miss Granger.”

Hermione twitched her wand and the itches left James abruptly. He stared at her, wide eyed, before he turned to Harry.

“Son, pick a date and get a ring. Don’t let this one get away. I’ll pay for the wedding, the reception, the honeymoon, the birthing suite at St. Mungo’s, baby stuff, hell, everything she wants. I want to be able to say my daughter did this and that and brag on her just like I would you.”

It was hard to tell who was more crimson, although they noticed Hermione had a little smile on her face. Lily was smiling too, but she hadn’t forgotten. She poked her son in the side.

“Memory, Harry.”

As she wasn’t giving an inch, Harry nodded and gave up any thoughts of talking his way out of this one. Soon the memory in the stone bowl was swapped out for a fresh one, and everyone dove back into the depths.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Three men sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, with the remains of a fairly good meal (charged to the Ministry) scattered around. Several bottles each of something stronger than butterbeer dotted the table like glass archipelagos. From the looks of it, there would be more joining the group.

“Well. This is one of the strangest things I’ve had happen to me, and considering the time with Harry that’s saying something,” Arthur mused.

“Strangest?” the youngest man there moaned. “ _You_ try to zip up your pants in the loo with a box trying to jump into your hands.”

“True, that is a bit out of the ordinary, but at least it didn’t have a bunch of sharp teeth.”

The third man laughed at the youngest man.

“Oh, Billy me boy, considering that sweet young thing what was in that box seemed to take quite a shine to you, sharp teeth might still happen. I hope she’s careful with them! You might be walking funny for a while otherwise!” He waggled his eyebrows in the most outrageously suggestive manner that he could.

Billy gaped at the innuendo, while Fionn and Arthur chuckled.

“Ah…” He wasn’t sure what to say.

Arthur grinned at the younger man.

“We’ll behave, Billy. We’re just winding you up a bit. Besides, Magic herself would be unhappy with us if we teased you too much, right Fionn?”

The other man laughed.

“Too true. Anyway, down to business. What exactly are we going to do?”

“Yeah, Arthur, what?”

Arthur Weasley took a deep pull of his beer, wishing it was something stronger.

“I’ve been told to explain about this bond they forged between them.”

“Bond, is it?”

“Yes. I have to explain that it’s essentially a marriage bond, one of the ones ordained by Magic herself. Or maybe it’s himself. It’s confusing.”

“I bet.”

“I’ve known for a long time that Harry has a destined task before him. What I’m not allowed to go into, so don’t ask. He doesn’t like it, but he lost his parents because of it.”

“I can’t blame the lad for that.”

Billy nodded silently, in agreement with the other two.

“What’s the boy like, Arthur?”

“Quiet, for the most part. Got a temper, but it takes a bit to fire it up and when it happens it reminds me of his mother. She could flay a man alive without touching him just from yelling at him. Harry’s has the same ability, except with the power he’s demonstrated he’ll be able to do it with magic. So don’t get on his bad side.”

Fionn sat back, impressed.

“Magic was right, I’ve been a father figure to Harry. Frankly, he’s like one of my boys. I’ll be honest. From what I’ve heard from the Twins and Ronald, his home life is worse than terrible. I’m not going to go into that since it’s really his story to tell, but he’s had a home at the Burrow from the moment he first walked in and I mean to see that he always does. For that matter, Hermione too, as his bonded. That’s something that’s been building from their first year at Hogwarts, even if some of mine couldn’t or didn’t want to see it.”

A moment of silence followed this before Arthur went on.

“Fionn, your job is to cause chaos when the time comes. How and where is up to you, although I do believe my boys Fred and George would help you with that. Merlin help me and the rest of us for suggesting that.”

Fionn laughed at the expression on Arthur’s face. It was a mix of pride and terror.

“Oh, I’ve heard stories of the things the two of them got up to. I’ve been in their shop, too. Wonderful place. My Fíadh has promised me gruesome things if I buy one more thing from the lads to try out on her.”

Arthur couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Fionn, don’t you know that pranks aren’t always the best way to keep harmony in a marriage?”

“It’s not the pranks, it’s the making up afterward! Tell your lads I said ‘thank you!’ I haven’t had so much…”

“Anyway!” Billy sat up and interrupted quick enough to spill some of his drink on himself, and the other two smirked at each other. Fionn went on.

“Well, aside from that, my darling wife went in to give them what-for. I tell you Arthur, I was a wee bit worried about their future chances to give Molly grandchildren, I was. But you know what?”

“What’s that?”

“She came home with a blush and a sweet little smile, and something in a little beaded bag that she wouldn’t tell me about. It’s been six months and I still don’t know what it is. Now every time I go, she insists on going with me and she buys more than I do! I’m a bit worried now. Those boys treat her like a queen, and it’s apparently good for their bottom line. Well, considering how much of my paycheck goes to them…”

Arthur laughed.

“They do seem to have charmed a lot of witches, that’s true. Angelina and Alicia need to watch out. They’re making Galleons hand over fist, too.”

Billy sighed. It was like pulling teeth. He didn’t know if they was doing this on purpose.

“This is all nice, but what about what we’re supposed to be doing? My lunch hour is almost up.”

“Oh, sorry, Billy me boy. Arthur?”

“Sorry, Billy. I got distracted. It happens at my age.”

Billy managed to keep the sigh down.

“Anyway, Billy, your job when the time comes, will be to hide Harry and Hermione. How Magic knows that you need to do that, I don’t know. The conversation she and I had after she hit us with that tasking was pretty involved, but it’s up to you to keep an eye out for somewhere isolated. If I were you, I’d find three or four different places just in case. I did ask her what was wrong with the Burrow, since both Harry and Hermione have been there, they know it well, and consider it another home. She told me that it was something that others knew too, so it wasn’t a good idea. So, be keeping an eye out for isolated places, probably with a good bit of space.”

“Okay, I can do that. How long do I have?”

Arthur considered that.

“I really don’t know. Let’s say two weeks to a month. That would be good for at least two places, right?”

“Maybe. I’ve got a detail coming up in a few days to Wales.”

“Hmm. That could work.”

Billy checked his watch and went pale.

“I need to go! Old MacDonald will have me roasted on a spit if I’m late back to work!”

“Eh, Billy me boy, if he starts to huff about it, tell him you was with a couple of old married men trying to tell you what not to do with a wife and you couldn’t get us to shut up.”

Arthur nodded in solemn agreement.

“And what to do with a wife, but if you didn’t know that already…”

They laughed as Billy nodded and ran off. They waited until they heard the Floo settle down again.

“Think he’ll figure out that old Ernie bats for the other team and could care less about our ‘advice?’”

“Dunno. I’d like to see his face when Ernie gets all worked up and offers his own advice.”

“Good old Ernie.”

“I hope he takes notes, especially if Ernie brings out that book of color swatches and starts on Billy’s lack of fashion. Poor boy looks like he dresses in the dark sometimes.”

“We should have told him to tell Ernie that we suggested finding a wife to help him dress better. Then he really would.”

“I’m not sure even Ernie’s swatches would help that.”

They laughed and turned back to planning. The seniority they held allowed them to have longer lunches.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Since it was a slow day after lunch without much to do, Billy had to sit through a lecture on matching fabrics, removing wrinkles, the difference between various tie knots and when to use them, the advantage of looking well put together and putting forward a sharp image since he represented the Ministry, after all. It took three hours, and his hand was cramping around the quill afterward. Ernie _tsked_ at his handwriting and promised to fix that, too. A primer on quillmanship was produced and instructions was given to bring it back tomorrow morning with the first three exercises completed. Ernie set several pages of lines per exercise to be written out.

As he was leaving for the day with an aching hand, Ernie idly remarked that his posture needed help, too. That would be next week. He knew a couple of gentlemen that would take him under their well-dressed wing to help the young man out. A quick note was sent out with a rather forbidding looking owl and Ernie claimed they’d be here to start their new project. He looked rather pleased at the thought. The owl looked Billy over in a close assessment before flying out. He looked distinctly unimpressed, and until that very moment Billy would have sworn that owls couldn’t frown in sheer disapproval.

Billy vowed revenge on the other two for their prank when he got home and saw the sheer amount of writing he had to do.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Tw0

_// TW for serial killer thoughts. This guy is just nasty._

Elgon Jagmar had a problem.

It needed to be solved before tomorrow morning.

He had procured the needed bodies from Hogsmeade. Such a convenient place. Just lovely. People just walked up into what he set up and _poof_ he had his quota. It was amazing what doormats could do.

That was a wonderful idea. Pretend to be a craftsman selling handwoven doormats with a mock-up doorway. It helped that he was proficient at weaving colorful fibers into quite serviceable mats. Jagmar used one himself and was quite proud of it if he did say so himself. It went everywhere he did.

The display doormats in question lay on the other side of a short hallway. Just a few feet with doors at both ends. He’d told potential customers to walk through the door, through the space-expanded room, and out the other door as if they were just headed to market and try the doormat on the other side of the second door.

What they discovered, if they even noticed the durability and looks of a wonderful doormat, was that the mat was a portkey that transported them to a nearby quarry whenever they stepped on it. Any weight place on it triggered it. There wasn’t any chance to escape the quarry, since after the portkey was expended, then the second part of the doormat came into play.

The second part consisted of the mat releasing a stunner and unraveling itself to bind itself around the customer. Jagmar often amused himself with the thought that the way he’d set up the cording, each end would enter the body through whatever convenient orifice or opening and burrow through the body to fuse together somewhere in the middle. After that, the binds constricted until the body was prepared for his use. There was plenty of fiber. It wasn’t acromantula silk, but it was long enough and tough enough that it couldn’t be snapped by hand.

He sold quite a few regular mats, too. Those customers hadn’t stepped on the sample mat, and the proceeds let him get a very nice lunch with enough left over for dinner. This he ate with relish and appreciation before closing up and heading to the quarry to collect the yields from his industrious work.

When he returned to the castle, there were some girls gossiping about someone laid up in a hospital bed that sounded quite familiar. It seemed that the problem he had was in a hospital bed, not rotting in obscurity. It was something that needed to be fixed, a hitch in his plans.

He’d never thought about how many blonde girls was in the castle. That one that he’d cut up and left for dead had been oblivated – he thought. However, he’d been sneaking around and heard other whispers about someone that matched the description. Apparently, whatever her name was had been relating to her little friends about something confusing in her mind. They had been asking her how it happened and she was unsure, but his blood ran cold when one friend mentioned to the other friend that she had trotted out a vague description of him.

This would never do. There was already too many questions being asked around the castle and too many suspicious eyes casting around trying to ferret out his designs.

He had needed obscurity to do his work for his Master. Being hunted was not in his plans, now or in the future so he had to do something about it. Meaning, he had to find that girl and make sure she didn’t talk. The other girls and whoever they talked to he would take care of later, as he could be quite convincing in making his points.

“Hmmm. Maybe she can be my celebratory joining. It’s a longstanding tradition after all, and tradition must always be solemnly upheld,” he mused as he idly tested the edge on the blade he habitually carried. “After all, without traditions where would we be? Uncivil, uncouth, uncaring, without direction and respect for the natural order of things!”

He stood and bowed to the four corners, slamming a fist to his chest as he bowed each time. For good measure, he included the secondary intercardinal directions as well with a flourish to show his appreciation for the sincerity and soberness that he applied to his chosen work. After the small ceremony, he sat down to think his problem through. Proper planning prevented poor performance, he’d heard once long ago and as it made perfect sense he decided to use it from then on.

There were too many people around her to do something about it then, so he had to bide his time. That wasn’t a problem. Part of the thrill of the hunt was the waiting, which whetted his appetite for the kill. After that came his celebration, of course. Nothing came close to that and his selections certainly didn’t complain about it either. They never had and never would. Well, not after a certain point.

The abandoned room he was commandeered for his operations base had several overlays of silencing, notice-me-not, locking, and compulsion spells to redirect all manner of attention away from him. Over the twenty years he’d been celebrating his hunts, it had become second and third nature to cast the spells. He did it again without thought, adding yet another layer to his erstwhile lair.

The walls echoed with the off-tune Yule tune he vaguely remembered from his youth. The words didn’t match up, and the dented pan he was whacking to provide a counterpoint didn’t help. He didn’t care. Elgon Jagmar was pleased that he had a new personal goal to accomplish with such sweet, sweet nectar of rewards alongside the task from his Master.

Yes, whoever the little blonde girl was had to die. He grinned at the visualization in his mind. As he made some notes and organized his planning, he switched to a jaunty whistle. Variety was the spice of life. Too bad Geffrey Thurstan wasn’t around at the moment. They had some good times together in the past. When he finished this job, he would have to look up the ugly old bastard and see if they could compare notes.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

There were many shouts and whistles as they fell in. James didn’t know what was going on, since he had landed in the memory with his eyes closed. For some reason, the air felt charged with energy – physical, atmospheric, magical, all kinds – and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Suddenly, he felt an unsteady hand latch on to his arm and squeeze with all his might. The hand he recognized from long familiarity as Lily’s. The energy, he didn’t, since Pensieve memories weren’t supposed to impart the sensations the original memory holder had experienced. What was he going to see when he opened his eyes?

He opened his eyes to see… Ludo Bagman.

Before he could say anything rude, crude, and possibly quite profane, Lily slapped her hand over his mouth and glared at him. While she was no more a fan of the man than he was, she didn’t want to listen to his diatribe about Bagman’s personal characteristics yet again. She was well aware of them herself and of the things she’d done in the past to discourage those same things. It had usually been done at wandpoint or a well-placed punch, sometimes two.

The man was bobbing around on his feet, wearing a quite ill-fitting Wimbourne Wasps uniform. James snorted in what he knew was unmitigated personal gall as he thought that the appearance of time had been better to himself personally than Ludo. Being dead for a time apparently had some uses. He never followed the Wasps anyway.

As the group watched, Bagman bumbled around with a purple silk sack. The four Champions each withdrew a small dragon from its depths, and James wasn’t quite sure who had what kind. No one seemed pleased at all with their selections, and memory Harry seemed to go a bit white as his model puffed smoke up at his face. The other three champions’ dragons had something around their minuscule necks, but he couldn’t see what. The lovely girl seemed determined, the gruff boy just sat down in the dirt, and the Diggory boy didn’t react much. James was surprised at that, to be honest. Amos had always been particularly blustery, after all. Maybe his boy took more after his mother.

The memory skipped from that point, fading out from Bagman’s patently false smile approaching memory Harry for something to showing his son walking to the heavy barriers left slightly open which lead to the arena. The noise from the crowd had changed, and for all the descriptions in his head he couldn’t find one that fit better than ‘bloodthirsty.’

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” James mumbled to himself. No one heard. His companions all looked to be as lost in thought as he was. As this was Harry’s memory, the sound of memory Hermione’s shrieking was noticeable above the sound of the crowd and he turned to look at her. She was white with the fear of the moment and looked like she wanted to join her memory self in concert.

When they caught sight of enraged yellow eyes set in the scaly black face of a nesting female Hungarian Horntail, Lily and James both screamed.

None of the Potters were sure if the heightened fear and accompanying adrenaline spike had sharpened Harry’s memory of the event, but James in particular wanted to gibber something that even he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. He never wanted to be _this close_ to a dragon, memory or not!

Memory Harry was standing huddled next to a rock, which looked wholly insufficient to guard against a dragon’s flame. James watched with no small amount of incredulity as his son yelled out his first spell of the match.

“Accio Firebolt!”

James gaped. Lily turned in his arms and looked up at him. She was aghast, her slack face making it hard for her to speak.

“Please tell me he’s not going to do what I think he’s going to do,” he heard his beloved wife say with shock written on her face. He could only shrug helplessly, trying to deal with his own dazed surprise.

A corner of his mind noted that even the dragon seemed to be boggled. Another corner saw that the Harry that had accompanied them into the memory had the tiniest smirk on his face and he suddenly remembered what his son had said while they flew around the Quidditch pitch.

The moment that the Firebolt came zooming in, faithfully answering the call of its master, the memory seemed to tighten a little closer into what Harry saw from his position on the broom and a bit behind. The visitors in the memory found themselves in the highly uncomfortable position of standing on… nothing. Wherever Harry piloted his broom, his erstwhile passengers went, with the sensation of floating in midair and being dragged behind the bristles of the Firebolt through every twist and turn at whatever speed Harry was flying. It reminded James of something Lily had mentioned called ‘water skiing.’ Up until this point, that had looked like a lot of fun but now he was not so sure. Harry flew like a demon.

Hermione and Lily screamed as they plunged through the air, bound by the bonds of the memory’s point of view. James gulped. Dumbledore went green, which frankly did not match well with the garish orange and pastel pink robes he was wearing. Minerva McGonagall let out a Scottish war cry, which made James squint at her in surprise as soon as he could control his stomach.

Harry was grinning. James reflected that his son seemed to be at home in the air. Either that or he had a death wish.

The unwilling passengers all dodged the Horntail’s virtual flames, everyone imagining that they could feel the scorch of the dragon’s breath as it streamed by. So far, his son had made it look easy by dancing in the air with his broom. The elder Potter was amazed to feel a few tendrils of pride in between all the waves of fear.

It was total shock to almost everyone observing when the tail lashed out. No one saw it coming at all. They could all see the spurt of memory Harry’s blood that followed the path of the wickedly sharp keratin spike in the dragon’s tail. By reflex, James and Lily ducked together to avoid being splattered. Lily screamed again and felt herself going faint. James clutched at her to keep her standing upright. It didn’t help when the memory broom fell some distance in the air after the dragon’s strike and took them along with it.

It became harder to do any standing very soon as he saw the dragon’s wings extend and he saw Harry suddenly…

James was sure he didn’t have a stomach anymore as he and the other memory passengers found themselves pulled into a power dive to the ground. Lily fainted for real and he picked her up before she could collapse. He felt odd, standing in mid-air and holding his wife close while falling himself. The sensations and the sights of the memory warred for dominance in his brain and battered him silly. A quick glance at Dumbledore told him that the old man was worse off than he was.

When memory Harry took his hands off the broom to snatch the golden egg while still at speed during his mad swoop, James felt like fainting himself. He looked over and saw that Hermione had passed out as well, and Harry was holding her aloft the same way James was holding Lily.

Despite himself and the fear clawing at his brain, he grinned. The Potter women were just alike.

Bagman was shouting something that James couldn’t hear as memory Harry landed with the golden egg under his uninjured arm. It wasn’t important but he did note that memory McGonagall seemed shaken up as she sent memory Harry to the first aid tent. He looked over at the real McGonagall, who stared back. She dared him to say anything about the memory’s interaction with a raised eyebrow and a stern gaze.

James Potter was nobody’s fool.

Lily came to about the same time as Hermione awakened herself and traded worried glances with James. They had seen snippets of Harry’s life from the other side of the divide between Life and Death, but with nothing anywhere near the fidelity of what they had just seen.

The stumbling exchange with Ron was noted in the minds of both parents with narrowed eyes, but they traded another glance. Later they’d talk about the Weasley boy, they resolved. Harry didn’t notice and neither did Hermione. He was whispering something in her ear as she sobbed into his shoulder and clutching him to her for all she was worth.

As they exited the memory, James could see that Lily was building up a head of steam. He thought to himself that he understood completely.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Neville’s thoughts were humming as he walked with Luna on his arm. Contrary to what some in Hogwarts would think, there was a part of Neville’s mind that was sharper than the Sword of Gryffindor. That part was fitting together bits and pieces of things that he’d been noticing over the years since he and Harry had started Hogwarts. Not the adventures that his godbrother seemed to find himself in, but other things related to Harry.

For a moment, his thoughts hitched. Godbrother. That felt good to have someone like a brother, especially with the loneliness he’d had growing up. He smiled for a moment and went back to his thoughts. Luna looked up at him and smiled in response, seeing that he had something on his mind. She left him to it, sure that if he wanted to talk about it he would. They continued on as Neville’s thoughts ran their course. He hadn’t noticed her smile as lost in his thoughts as he was, but she wasn’t bothered.

A quiet person like himself can gather a lot of information and with his hearing, he was able to pick up a good bit. He had seen the scars on Harry’s back when Harry didn’t know he was there, but refrained from asking him about it. It was evident that Harry didn’t have the best of home life. The way that the other boy looked when he left Hogwarts for the summer and when he returned for the start of the next term was distinctly different. It was something that he and Katie Bell had talked about in quiet moments.

The things that both Katie and he had heard from Ron spouting off about bars on Harry’s window had disturbed both of them. The Twins had confirmed it during quiet discussions away from Harry, and the three of them had to hold Katie back from finding a way to Surrey to commit triple murder once notes had been compared. Once the other Chasers knew, that task became harder. Keeping the knowledge that they knew about the bars from Harry was even harder than that, but they managed. Somehow. To this day, Neville wondered how he and the Twins had managed that.

With Katie being muggleborn, she was a resource that he would otherwise have not even considered having. There had been things that Katie had her parents send her, books and pamphlets on abused children that Neville had read over. It was uncomfortable reading for him, and she admitted it was the same for her. She told him things that he’d agreed to keep quiet for now, with the understanding that he would make use of when he was ready to help Harry. Neither of them had known then that Harry was his godbrother, but now?

This astounding return of Harry’s parents was something that he could use. The final piece of the puzzle that he needed. Sometime tonight Neville was going to sit down in a quiet corner somewhere and write a letter to his grandmother. She needed to know everything that he’d collected. What his godmother Lily had said was true. Where a Potter goes, a Longbottom follows. What was also true was that a Longbottom stands up for a Potter. It was time that this Longbottom stood up. He would tell his grandmother what he was thinking of, but he would stand and lead the way.

Luna looked up at Neville again, to see a small smile on his face. He had come to a decision. She snuggled into his arm, feeling his magic pulse with his determination and feeling her magic answer. Neville had a mission now and she felt it was her duty to help him.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Lily sat in a comfortable chair in the Headmaster’s office, steaming. Her eyes promised a slow painful death to everyone involved in the organization of the Triwizard Tournament. There had been promises made to herself while viewing that memory to make a list of everyone. Once that list was made, then those people should expect some _personal attention._

As one of those people promised said _personal attention,_ and having just barely overheard her mutterings, Albus Dumbledore was doing his best to keep his desk between himself and the redhead. In the depths of his mind he was wondering if it was a good idea to cast a _Fidelius_ charm on the area immediately around his desk and desk chair with himself as the Secret-Keeper and conveniently forget to tell Lily Potter.

It was looking more and more like the thing to do, but the next question was would he have enough time to actually do it before she eviscerated him?

Then he made the mistake of looking over at James Potter.

The former Marauder was standing at the open window. He was looking out on the grounds, but what in particular he was looking at Dumbledore couldn’t say. It had been a while since he’d had to decipher the thoughts of someone else when they faced away from him, but this wasn’t hard. The elder Potter was more than angry at the moment. If anything, he was more angry than his wife and that was saying something.

The thought made him uneasy. Lily Potter was a formidable witch, and he could remember the brimstone way she could overwhelm someone or a pair of someones she was _displeased with._ James Potter, while not as quickly demonstrative as his wife, was more subtle. True, his subtlety was buttressed by his longtime prowess at pranks, but the end result was the same. At some point, whoever ran afoul of James Potter found themselves regretting it.

The question here was whether it would be permanent or not. Dumbledore was unsure what the answer was going to be.

The office was quiet. Harry was sitting with his jaw set tight enough to look like any number of statues on display in the school at the reminder of the Horntail that he’d had to face. Not for the first time, he wondered if Parseltongue would have worked on the nesting mother. Considering the state that she had been in, he wasn’t sure that he would have had any luck. Harry also wasn’t too sure that he would have had the presence of mind to carry on a conversation then.

Hermione looked as upset as she had been the first time around and he decided that maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to remind her of the First Task. Remembering at her resolute face beforehand as the memory lay waiting in the Pensieve, Harry concluded that it would have made no difference to suggest that she remain outside while the others entered.

Professor McGonagall remembered the day quite well enough, thank you very much. She had been immensely proud of her lion – when she wasn’t scared out of her mind, that was. It had taken a few hard pulls on her Occlumency to be able to watch it again and she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t have a few hard pulls at something else fiery and liquid tonight. Her weekly bet with Filius would have to be put off until the next week. Once she told him about this, he would probably join her in those few hard pulls with Goblin whiskey.

“So, Albus, what else do we have to drag out of you?”

The voice from the direction of the window was flat and hard. There was no questioning the speaker.

“There are some things that I can’t speak of, my dear boy…”

Lily surged up while Dumbledore’s attention was on James.

“Bullshit, Albus! This is our son and regardless of how we happen to be here now, we’re here! I certainly haven’t forgotten the prophecy, might I remind you? It doesn’t seem to be that it’s been fulfilled in our time away!”

Looking at the gleaming eyes of the mother, Dumbledore looked at the hard eyes of the son. Both looked at him with the same shade of green. It seemed to him that the familial relationships between the two and the proximity was boosting both mother and son in their power levels. Harry was already at an amazing power level for his age. It did not bode well for his future comfort in the chair or for the continued existence of his desk.

Or the continued existence of one Albus Dumbledore, when he looked at Miss Granger’s almost obsidian eyes. They surely were not her usual chocolate brown and his next thought after that was that her eyes looked remarkably like her half-Kneazle familiar’s eyes as he stalked various small prey on the grounds.

James was still looking out the window. After a moment, he turned to look at the old man. His gaze was even and unyielding, the eyes of the Potter of Potters.

“I believe my wife asked you a question, Professor. I have not heard a response.”

There really wasn’t much that he could do, since it was quite possible that Harry would tell his parents everything and should there be anything that he didn’t mention, Hermione would. His Deputy Head was still sitting there with her refilled tea cup and a freshly raised eyebrow, letting him flounder. There didn’t seem to be any help for him from that quarter, as she had made her feelings on this matter known long ago. He accepted that he was in a no-win situation.

“Where should I begin?”

Lily snorted. As she looked up at the old man to meet his eyes, he could see not Lily, but Lady Potter.

“At the beginning. What possible reason would you have had for Harry to live at the Dursleys? I definitely want that one answered, before you say anything else. What trials did Harry have to go through, why did he have to go through them in the first place, and why have you allowed him to be in danger? _What have you done to my son,_ Albus Dumbledore?!”

Dumbledore looked around the office. Her voice had raised up memories of centuries-ago Potters with the ring of steel, the clang of battleaxes and the unceasing exertion of war magic. James didn’t say anything, but his raised eyebrow spoke for him as his Potter blood responded to the call of his mate. He wanted those questions answered himself and he was waiting more or less patiently. Hermione gave him her own raised-eyebrows look but didn’t say anything. If anything, it reminded the Headmaster of a viper’s gaze. Harry was leaned back into the cushions of the loveseat that he and Hermione was using with his eyes closed. His expression revealed nothing, but the tension of his body spoke volumes as the family magic acted upon both himself and Hermione.

His eyes came to rest on the eyes of the redheaded witch waiting impatiently for him to get on with it. Dumbledore realized that if he didn’t start talking, she was going to simply rip his throat out with her bare hands.

“Lily, James, on that terrible night we know too well, I decided that the safest thing was to leave Harry with the Dursleys…”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Elsewhere in the castle, there was a subliminal rumble from the magic that imbued the castle. It confused everyone in varying amounts but ultimately it was concluded that it was just something to write off to the things about the ancient castle that no one in living memory could explain. Of course, maybe Fawkes or the Sorting Hat would have an idea had they not been distracted with the entertaining drama happening in the Headmaster’s office, or the older portraits around the castle might agree on what it was, but it wasn’t something that anyone would have thought to ask of them. It was just a ripple of differing sizes in everyone’s various consciousnesses that some decided that it was indigestion and others thought it was worry over schoolwork and yet others concluded it was lack of sleep.

The castle thought otherwise. The Owls’ Parliament thought otherwise as well, their deliberations interrupted and the sudden new matter of unexpected magical movements taken up for uneasy debate. The other assorted familiars in the castle and on the grounds thought otherwise, with the instincts given to their breeds and species screaming that something was occurring that boded ill and to be on high alert. Hagrid himself was apprehensive, with his sensitivity to the inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest and the things that they felt through the ebb and flow of Magic. He couldn’t explain it one bit and had he’d been able to complete his magical education at Hogwarts, he might have come to a better conclusion. As it were, he decided to keep his crossbow and extra quarrels at hand wherever he went.

In the Chamber of Secrets, a stone doorway materialized into being. Beside it, a rather ornately decorated section appeared in the stone walls. It was a finely carved depression, about a foot square, with four large cabochon gems arranged in a diamond formation. The bottom was an emerald, the left was a sapphire, the right was a beryl and the top was a ruby. Each was glowing with its own light from within, although the casual onlooker would have been hard pressed to see how this was. The slightly-larger emerald glowed brighter than the other three.

The gems pulsed in time with the magic flowing deep in the castle, waiting for someone to come along and make use of their abilities. For now, the Chamber was still and so was the unknown area that lead behind the stone doorway. There was no explanation apparent to tell anyone what the doorway was there for in the first place. This was of no matter to the castle’s magic and it sat, patiently waiting.

On the seventh floor across from a painting of dancing trolls, a doorway faded into being. It remained without anyone having called it or without anyone having entered through it. It matched the one in the Chamber. A finely carved depression positioned itself beside the doorway, with four gems placed in it. A slightly-larger sapphire glowed brighter than the other three.

In the dungeons, the unused confinement area shuddered as magic was drawn from the ley-lines that ran under the castle to reconfigure the area into a bright and open space. The abandoned chains, cells, hewed stone bunks, and privy holes melded into each other before reforming into the new layout. A stout wall appeared to close off the room with the other three walls of the castle. A doorway manifested into being, with a finely carved depression displaying a group of gemstones. A slightly-larger beryl glowed brighter than the other three.

On the third floor, squawks of surprise greeted the disappearance of several adjacent classrooms. As these classrooms stood unused, there wasn’t much disruption aside from the unusual. Some noticed that the classrooms melted like a stick of butter but the stone of the castle soon revealed itself again in an imposing wall with tapestries depicting gory scenes of battle. A doorway ghosted into being, with a finely carved depression displaying a group of gemstones. A slightly-larger ruby glowed brighter than the other three.

The uneasiness that accompanied the revelation of these rooms settled into the castle and the grounds, waiting for something to disrupt it. That something was approaching with all determined stealth, as a hunter with his prey. No one had a way to know that another hunter was coming to join the one already present.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Mum! Dad!”

The surprise in the voice turned heads, but it wasn’t Harry’s voice that was heard. Neville looked up from where he was helping a still somewhat weak Luna walk around in the Great Hall before the next meal to see Dan and Emma Granger enter through the imposing doors. He wondered about that before turning his attention back to Luna. It had taken some convincing a few hours ago on the part of Madam Pomfrey, who’d cast her assessing eye on Luna and evaluated Neville’s steady gaze back at her. A very slight smile and a raised eyebrow let him know, at least, that they’d succeeded but not without conditions.

“You will look after her, Mister Longbottom, do you hear me? Let her walk around to exercise but not too much! Make sure that she eats before she returns even if dinner has not been served yet. She still needs to stay here tonight.”

Neville had agreed in receipt of his instructions, and the mediwitch hid another grin at his solemn mien as Luna looked up as guileless as she’d been during their earlier conversation.

“Can I have pudding, too?”

“Sure. No reason why not, but not as a main course, Miss Lovegood. You need proteins and green vegetables plus a bit of chocolate for your magical core. Eat a large meal.”

Luna had smiled at that, and even though it wasn’t directed at Neville he felt his heart flip over anyway. He had nodded at the mediwitch and led her out. Now she was sitting at the Ravenclaw table with the the remains of a fairly large meal for her and a ‘good snack for him,’ as he laughingly put it to her. She smiled at what he thought was a fairly lame joke and felt his heart flip over again.

There wasn’t time to try to figure out what was going on, since her attention was caught by the blur that erupted from the Gryffindor table rushing to the couple at the doors of the Great Hall. Harry, Hermione, Parvati and Susan had happened to earlier catch up with Neville and Luna at the doors to the Infirmary as he did his escort duty. They had decided to walk with them when they found out what was going on with her treatment. Luna was quite amused at Harry as he tendered his solemn condolences for having to be stuck there, but not too loudly in case Madam Pomfrey happened to hear his voice. He didn’t want to be dragged to his reserved bed and made to submit to a medical examination.

She was still giggling into her pudding as she thought about it.

Neville and Luna watched with interest as Hermione hugged her parents to her as fiercely as she hugged Harry. Surely there was a reason that the Grangers were in the castle.

“I wonder how they’re here, Luna? I thought Muggles couldn’t even see the castle.”

Luna considered the question with all seriousness. A possible answer came to her.

“It seems the koriaphines have finally started breeding season. It only comes every seven years, you know.”

Neville’s thoughts hit a brick wall. A what?

“It’s the butterfly-like magical insect that lets Muggles perceive magical structures like Hogwarts.”

He turned to look down at her. She was grinning up at him.

“You asked me what it was, so I answered.”

“I did?” He didn’t remember doing that.

“Yes. Let’s go talk to them. I don’t get to meet many Muggles!”

“Are you feeling okay enough to?”

“Yes, but I’ll soon want to go to bed. And you need to sleep in your bed too. I feel safe next to you but you need rest too.”

He’d been thinking to himself that Madam Pomfrey seemed to be eyeing him rather sternly over the last few hours.

“Yes, she has been looking at you. If you don’t get rest for yourself, she’s going to put you in a bed too. There are no guarantees that bed will be next to me.”

He looked at her and she blinked at him. He didn’t remember saying what he was thinking that time either. Neville wondered about that, decided to think about it later. He got up and offered Luna an arm to lean on, which she took.

They walked closer to the Grangers, who were being interrogated by their daughter with good natures before the storm of questions. Harry stood nearby, looking a bit helpless. He really didn’t seem to know which way to go. Neville snorted. When the River Hermione overflowed her banks, there really was no way to direct or avoid the flow of her questions. At his side, Luna seemed to be considering something and she turned to look up at him.

“I think she’s going to faint if she doesn’t take a breath. She must have amazing lung capacity. Harry must really appreciate that so much on those times when we can’t find either one of them, wouldn’t you say? Maybe that’s why his face is so pale sometimes. The blood must be somewhere other than his face then.”

Suddenly Neville found it hard to breathe himself at the thoughts that brought up. He tried to stifle the laughter and only partially succeeded. It produced a quite odd wheezing sound, which distracted Hermione. She looked over to see them.

“Neville! Luna! Come meet my parents!” She looked at him. “Neville, are you all right? You look a little red in the face.”

“I’m okay,” he gasped. “Private thought.”

Very private, if he had anything to say about it. He didn’t want Harry hacked off at him. Luna looked up at him again and smiled her little smile before tugging his arm closer to her.

“The wrackspurts are having a hard time nesting on him right now, Hermione. Neville is not letting them affect him. He’s okay.”

“What are wrackspurts, young lady?”

She smiled at the nice man, who had kind eyes. Luna didn’t notice Hermione moan and Harry grin.

“They’re invisible magical creatures that float into people’s ears. A wrackspurt will make people’s brains become fuzzy and unfocused. It causes confusion a lot.” The man seemed to consider that.

“Like a type of inner-ear infection? Causes problems with balance and nausea? Can it be treated with medication?”

Luna smiled at the very nice man. What an insightful question.

“Yes to infection, possibly to nausea, although mildly. Balance, sometimes, although not as much physically as magically and emotionally. Medications – is that like potions?”

“Yes, as I understand it, although meds are more narrow in scope than potions. I understand that there are a lot of uses for different potions that don’t have any counterpart in Muggle medicine.”

“There are some things that alleviate it to some degree, but the root cause must be treated. Just treating the signs and symptoms doesn’t help.”

Hermione stared at the little Ravenclaw with amazement. Harry snickered at her, outside of her field of view of course. Neville seemed to have a smile of pride on his face and didn’t realize it. The man extended his hand and shook Luna’s gently.

“Dan Granger. This is my wife and love of my life, Emma.” The woman smiled at her husband. “I’d be interested to find out more about this ‘wrackspurt.’ We’ve heard about some magical things and read most of Hermione’s school textbooks and it’s all quite interesting.”

“Luna Lovegood.” She smiled broadly at him, feeling more at ease than she had in some time.

“Is this your young man? He seems to be quite protective of you.”

Neville interjected before Luna could say anything. There was literally anything she could or would say. As it were, Neville knew that Harry would have plenty to razz him about later. From the look on the other Gryffindor’s face, he was looking forward to it, too.

“We haven’t discussed anything like that, at least yet.” The look on his face suggested that it would be quite possible. “How do you do, sir? My name is Neville Longbottom.”

He stuck out his free hand and shook the other man’s hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Neville. I didn’t mean to assume.”

“It’s okay, sir. Both Luna and I are curious though, what brings you here?”

Dan Granger grinned.

“You mean, how are we even able to be here and see the castle?”

Neville blushed and there was a chuckle at his face. Dan took pity on him and raised a wrist. On it was a leather bracelet, made with a rather intricate large braid. It matched a slightly smaller one on his wife’s wrist and shimmered with a faint flowing motion down the strands of the braid. Both matched each other and shimmered at the same time with the same synchronized glistening light.

“The Headmaster has been corresponding with us about things in the Muggle world that match with things in the Magical world for the last year or so. We are not his only correspondents as we are dentists and our knowledge and skill sets are different from the others he corresponds for the same reasons. Fawkes scared the ever-living hell out of us the first time he showed up. Emma had to apologize to him for throwing a bowl of flour on him.”

There were a few raised eyebrows. The mental image of a phoenix covered in flour was funny in a way.

“Dad, I didn’t know about this?”

“We didn’t say anything, sweetheart. We didn’t want you to start pestering the Headmaster or poor Fawkes.”

Hermione stewed at the laughter that bubbled up.

“Anyway, Emma apologized once we figured out what was what, and we managed to get Fawkes to stay. Well, he actually had to stay so he could take the reply back but he didn’t look too happy. Not that I could blame him, really. Who’d enjoy having a bunch of flour all over yourself? While I was writing the reply, Emma took Fawkes to the bathtub and gave him a bath.”

Hermione gasped.

“Oh, no. He didn’t like that at all, did he?”

Emma laughed.

“No, sweetie, not that. He loved it. I’ve never heard a bird sing while I scrubbed flour off his feathers. He would hold a wing or a foot out to get scrubbed more than once, after he figured out what I was doing. It didn’t take long for him to dry off, either.”

“What?”

“Well, what do you expect? He travels by that flaming thing he does.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Dan took up the story again.

“By the time I had the letter written with some of my first thoughts, Emma was back with Fawkes, who was in a much better mood. She sat down with him and spoiled him rotten, just like she does with Hedwig.”

Neville and Luna looked at Harry, who tried not to blush as Dan continued.

“So we found out that Fawkes likes frozen blueberries. A lot. Your mum had been looking for a bit of ham in the fridge since we keep some just for Hedwig, since she’s a raptor, and has been a constant visitor for years now,” more looks at Harry, who ignored them the best he could, “and she set some chilled blueberries out on the counter to make room to look. By the time she found some, Fawkes had eaten all of them.”

Harry snickered at the look on Hermione’s face.

“The whole thing. I watched him do it too and didn’t say anything. He looked so happy when he hoovered up the last one, I couldn’t be mad. I ate plain pancakes the next day and still couldn’t be mad.”

Emma laughed too and took up the story.

“I was very surprised when I grabbed an empty plastic box of blueberries. I looked at Fawkes, looked at the box, looked at him again and said, ‘Are we going to have to keep blueberries in here all the time for you?’ He looked straight at me and sang a song which for the life of me seemed like he was saying, ‘Are you being silly? Of course!’ So that day, we put blueberries on the shopping list for Fawkes along with ham for Hedwig.”

“And now every time Fawkes shows up he sings, well, begs your Mum for a bath and a carton of blueberries. And of course, she does just that. After he gets his bath and blueberries, he sings again for her. Not me, you understand. Just for her. There has been times when she’s at the surgery with patients and can’t do it when he shows up and on those times, I’ve never seen a more dejected bird. On those times, he waits for her to come home and sweet-talks her into doing it! I’m not sure the Headmaster knows about this arrangement of theirs, to be honest.”

The Hogwarts students all looked at each other. That was quite a tale. Neville looked at the bracelets.

“But what about the bracelets?”

Dan held it up again.

“Well, the Headmaster sent these to us last week with a portkey to get here today. They have been soaked in the juices of something called ‘koriaphines,’ which I’ve never heard of. I’ll have to ask him about that later.”

Neville stared at Luna, who just smiled.

“Er, I’m sure it’s something esoteric that the Headmaster has encountered at some point. He’s got to be, what, one hundred and twenty years old? Older?”

“Um, older, I think.”

“Yeah, he has to be older. Maybe.”

Nobody, not even Hermione, was quite sure. Dan stopped for a moment, thoughts arrested at the offhand information Neville tossed out. It seemed to him that the old man got around better than he did, and he was nowhere near that old!

“I hope I get around that well if I even reach a hundred and twenty, but anyway. These bracelets let us see the castle and interact with things around it. Basically, we can see magical things as long as we wear these, and only the Headmaster can remove them. He didn’t quite get into what happens if anyone tries when I asked,” Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes simultaneously, “but did that twinkle thing. I never knew he could look like a Christmas tree full of blinking lights, but I know now.”

Emma took her husband’s hand.

“And so we decided that we’d look for our darling daughter. We heard that some new things have happened in your and Harry’s lives. Care to share, dear?”

Mother smirked at daughter, who blushed. Luna laughed out loud, which pulled attention to her.

“Oh, Mrs. Granger, do you mean that Hermione managed to clear all the wrackspurts from her and Harry using her…”

“Luna!!” Hermione interrupted, but Luna ignored her.

“And Harry was very appreciative of her efforts, and he extended his…”

“LUNA!!!”

Luna blinked. For some reason, Hermione was almost the same color as a Scarlet Pimpernel. Luna had heard about the Muggle flowers but that wasn’t what she was comparing the other girl to. Harry looked like he was having trouble breathing, especially when Dan Granger speared him with a speculative eye.

“What is it, Hermione? You got Harry’s parents back, and he’s quite happy for that.”

Emma’s expression softened at that and she pulled a surprised Harry into a hug.

“Oh, Harry. I know that’s got to be something wonderful for you.”

“It is.” Harry didn’t say any more, since he was blushing as red as Hermione. He thought he’d gotten that reaction under control, but with her parents here, it was back full force!

Dan looked around to see the Great Hall starting to fill up. He looked at the tables just in time to see them magically set themselves for a meal. Another table appeared close to the Gryffindor table, but this table was built higher. It seemed to be best for standing at to eat instead of sitting. The dentist looked at everything happening and whistled in appreciation.

“Now isn’t that something to see. Convenient, too.”

Harry flushed and mumbled something. Everyone looked at him.

“What?” Hermione was the closest. “What was that, Harry?”

He mumbled something that sounded like ‘message’ and ‘Hedwig,’ and she turned him to face her.

“What about Hedwig? And don’t mumble.”

He took a deep breath.

“Remember that message I got at breakfast? Hedwig looked irritated and smug at the same time? And she stole all the bacon?”

“Yes…” Hermione put a whole conversation promising punishment into the one word if Harry didn’t get to the point. Dan and Emma elbowed each other and smirked. Neither Harry or Hermione noticed, but Neville and Luna did.

“So sometime today there’s going to be a visitor for me, well, for us.”

Hermione thought about that. She couldn’t think of anyone who would be visiting both of them aside from her parents, and they were already here.

“Who?”

Harry did his tomato imitation again, and Dan wondered why he mumbled again. Hermione pinched his side, which made him yelp.

“Harry! Spit it out! Who’s coming?”

“Kateira.”

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

_A bit earlier:_

“So, at breakfast I told him, ‘you seem to have made quite a deep impression on your centauride observer, Mister Potter. It’s not often that a female of the Centaurs will visit the castle. It’s quite rare, in fact. You must have quite the animal magnetism that appeals to her to get her to visit.’ You should have seen his reaction. I didn’t know which was more red, Mister Potter or Mister Weasley’s hair. Sometimes, it’s just too easy.”

Professor Flitwick chuckled at the memory again as he remembered Harry groaning yet again at the bad joke. Hermione had given the Charms professor a quite put-upon look when he sprang the joke, which made him snort. He figured that the two actually got along well, since he’d met Kateira long ago with her father.

“What did you say then?” Pomona Sprout was interested as she walked to the Great Hall with Professor Flitwick for lunch. Both carried a handful of schoolwork to look over later.

“I said, ‘oh, don’t worry, Miss Granger. She will wear the proper clothing. Well, proper as they call it that is. I daresay there will be still be more than a few tongues hanging out. It’s a good thing Mister Potter is used to the Centaurs, yes?’ That got a reaction, too.”

“What did she do?”

“She rolled her eyes, but I could see that she smiled a bit. She shot me a wink where Harry couldn’t see and admitted that his reaction was funny. She’s been giving him a crash course in flirting and between Kateira and Miss Tonks on occasion, he’s gaining ground.”

Flitwick’s eyes widened comically as he recounted the conversation from earlier. He leaned toward Professor Sprout and whispered to her where others passing by couldn’t hear.

“Now _that_ was funny when she said that. Nymphadora Tonks, too? The poor boy. I feel sorry for him if they ever meet and he’s in the same room with them.”

He looked anything but sorry. Professor Sprout huffed and looked upward to the heavens while shaking her head slightly. She was well aware of what her former Hufflepuff student was capable of.

“Did you see when Miss Granger gathered her books and tugged Mister Potter out with her, talking all the time about meeting her parents at some point in the future? She was talking about seeing Kateira again at some point, too. He appeared to be unsure which to be more worried about.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t landed in the Hospital Wing for embarrassment poisoning,” she muttered.

“Give it time,” he laughed.

“It’s not possible to die from embarrassment, it’s said.”

“No, but between those two and James, can you imagine what they would come up with?”

“I’m actually afraid to. Good thing Remus hasn’t shown up yet. One Marauder is enough.”

“True. More than that and Minerva would have kittens.”

They chuckled at the pun. Both considered sending Remus Lupin an invitation by owl and not admitting it to her.

“When Kateira gets here, five Galleons says Poppy will see cases of broken noses, trips, and falls increase.”

“I know better than to take that bet. I’ve seen her.”

“So have I!”

“Counter-bet: She’ll find a way to make old Dumbledore blush. Five Galleons. No, ten.”

“This I have to see. You’re on.”

“Tell Minerva?”

“And Severus. He’ll go in on it, you watch. As contrary as he is sometimes, he might raise the stakes. Either that or suggest something to her to do so he’ll win.”

“Done. Sucker.”

From the open window, they could hear hooves clip-clopping on the stone pathway approaching the castle. They looked outside, but only saw Firenze’s blond hair streaming in the breeze. He was carrying something but passed under the window before they could see what it was.

“Huh. Maybe she’ll show up later,” Flitwick mused.

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Maybe. A bit of chaos is good once in a while,” he grinned.

Sprout stared at him.

“Chaos? With Harry Potter and his minions in the castle?”

Flitwick thought about that and snickered.

“You have a point. Pretty good point, too. Maybe ‘chaos’ is not the best word. You warn Severus and I’ll tell Minerva.”

They stopped and sent off a couple of Patronus messages and got back a couple of replies shortly agreeing to the terms. Flitwick sighed sadly at the sight of Snape’s doe. He knew what it meant. Professor Sprout broke his reverie.

“What about Albus? Who tells him?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got ten Galleons on the line.”

“I hope you have them with you.”

“Why?”

A look out the window preceded her response. “She’s here. And... _oh my stars_ _and garters_ _._ Filius, look!”

“What?” It took him a moment to get up high enough to clear the windowsill as she continued to talk.

“If that’s proper clothing, I don’t want to see improper!”

“What do you mean?” He looked out the window. From his upper story window, he got a real eyeful. Kateira wore the absolute tiniest bikini top he’d ever seen. One good sneeze – correction, one deep breath he thought – and there wouldn’t be any point. The centauride would be totally free, so to speak. He had to admire the tensile strength of those strings. “Oh, my word. This is going to be a real showstopper.”

“This is going to be a real corker of a bet, you mean.”

“Where did she even find that whatever-it-is she’s wearing?”

“I have no idea, but it does remind of some things I’ve heard the Muggleborn girls talk about.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of female secret. Victory, Victoria, Victoire… something like that.”

He considered that and decided that he didn’t really want to find out the details. He looked at his colleague, who looked back at him a bit gobsmacked.

“To the Great Hall before they get there? Someone’s got to check the reactions, you know. And also collect another bottle of single-malt from Minerva.”

“To the Great Hall! Quickly!”

A couple of new Patronuses watched them scamper away before delivering new messages to Professors McGonagall and Snape.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

“Who’s Kateira?” Dan asked. He noticed that Professor McGonagall and a younger man and woman had entered the Great Hall and approached their group a bit quickly. There also seemed to be more students filing in, presumably ready for something to eat and wondering who the new people were. Hermione grinned at Harry’s expression and turned to answer her father.

“Kateira is a new friend of ours. She is a centauride, from the colony in the Forbidden Forest. They are excellent astronomers and astrologers, with one being one of our Professors. She was the observer for the ritual that Harry and I recently performed, since it used the Centaurs’ stone circle. I asked them for permission first, don’t worry.”

Dan raised an eyebrow and looked at Emma.

“Centauride… you’re talking about Centaurs, huh? The half human – half horse types from Greek and Roman mythology? Huh. How about that. Do they carry bows and arrows?”

Dan seemed to accept what Hermione was saying fairly easily, although Emma was unsure about it if her expression was any indication.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Harry moaned.

“Oh?” Emma asked. “Why’s that?”

Hermione answered.

“Kateira is… well, she’s _exuberant,_ for want of a better word. Centaurs are usually grumpy and suspicious – well, mostly – but she bucks the stereotype – pun not intended – and seems to enjoy teasing Harry to no end.”

“That’s the truth,” Harry muttered to no one in particular.

“She’s very flirty with him, and if Kateira can say something to make him blush, she will.”

“That’s the truth, too,” Harry also muttered, but no one paid him any attention.

“And while she has said Harry isn’t her type…”

“And why’s that?” Emma interrupted, seeing her change to get into the tease-Harry game. “He wouldn’t be able to ‘groom’ either her human or equine characteristics correctly?”

Harry blushed. Dan snorted, while Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Now, Emma dear, let Hermione tell her story. I’m sure Harry’s ability or shortcomings are beside the point.”

Harry choked at Dan’s deadpan delivery.

“Oh, of course. Sorry, Hermione. Keep going.”

Hermione glanced at Harry’s hot face, and at Luna and Neville trying not to laugh at his predicament. Dan kept a straight face, but otherwise winked at Luna and made it harder for her not to laugh.

“ _Anyway,_ while she would probably enjoy that… in fact, maybe I’ll look in some tack shops for brushes when I’m home for suitable gifts… we do not ride Centaurs. It’s considered an insult. So, no saddles or anything like that. Back to Kateira. Harry’s not her type, since he’s not a Centaur.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense,” Dan said. “Now, what about this ritual, pumpkin? What did you do?”

This time it was Hermione’s turn to turn red.

“Ummmm, maybe we should save that for a private discussion, not here in the Great Hall.”

Emma squinted at her daughter.

“Something you want to tell us, dear?”

Dan, Neville, and Luna leaned in to listen. Their faces were inquisitive, ready to soak up whatever information Hermione had to impart to them.

“Uh, well…”

Emma smiled at her daughter with a great deal of encouragement written on her features. From the corner of her eye, she noted that Harry seemed to be about to hyperventilate.

 _Oh, this was going to be good,_ she thought.

Hermione drew in a deep breath, wondering how to phrase this.

Dan raised an eyebrow.

Luna grinned.

Neville tilted his head and tried not to grin.

Harry took a step back and tried not to pass out.

A voice rang out.

“Oh, _l_ _ook_ who I’ve _found!_ Hello, virile young stallion! I’ve _missed_ you soooo much! Lookin’ _good,_ stud, although those clothes just aren’t you! I prefer what I last saw. Hermione, have you taken him out for a ride yet? Bareback?”

“Oh, crap,” Harry moaned. “She’s here. It can’t possibly get worse.” His eyes got wide as he looked over Dan’s shoulder to look at the doors. His mouth fell open wide enough that Dan could have easily checked his teeth.

Dan tried to hold in a laugh and be a stern parent, but it was quite hard to do. Harry’s expression and Hermione’s resigned look gave him fits. Whoever had spoken was behind him and obviously a woman but seeing Harry’s face upon seeing her was too funny. Those provocative statements were really winding him up, too.

“I’m sorry, Harry. ‘She?’ I’m assuming this is Kateira that just walked in? Sounds like a real trip.”

“Yes.” It came out strangled, and Dan chuckled before he looked at his wife who was staring at this Kateira person with much the same expression as Harry.

Emma looked flabbergasted and her eyes approached Harry’s in size.

“What?” Dan turned around to find out what was so surprising. “Jumpin’ Jesus on a pogo stick. How the hell does she walk upright with hooters like that? Damn, girl.”

“Dan!”

“Daddy!”

“You know, I was wondering that myself.”

The last came from Neville. The thoughtful tone was quite unlike him. The Grangers and Harry stared at him in surprise, while Luna giggled into his side.

“What?” Neville asked. “I wondered, all right? I only have two feet to stand on, unlike her. She must have great balance, but no wonder her hooves are so small.”

There wasn’t any time to form any speculations. The population of the Great Hall was dumbstruck as the centauride jog-trotted toward Harry with her arms thrown wide and her hair drawn back into a long braid. All attention was on the skimpy top Kateira wore and the motion imparted by the gait she chose. Part of the group (generally female) hoped that it kept its position while another part (generally male) hoped that it didn’t.

There was absolutely no chance for Harry to escape. Everyone made room for the centauride, who deftly plucked his glasses off his face and handed them to Hermione with a wink before burying his face in her chest. Hermione facepalmed, Harry’s glasses dangling forgotten from her hand by one leg. Kateira’s husky voice dripped with desire and longing, caressing all ears listening in.

“Oh, Harry, my Harry! My young stallion, he of the _beautiful_ green eyes and proud sexy positions, who makes women sigh with unmitigated wanton desire and men despair with astonished and never ending envy! Oh, for but a fleeting glimpse of your _chiseled_ perfection and _ver_ _rrr_ _y_ solid stature, and my days would be contented and gratified, topped only by the satisfaction given by Harry, oh my Harry! Young Stallion! May your mounts be ever fruitful and long-lasting!”

“Oh, brother. Kateira, can you be any more cheesy?” Hermione said dryly. Her mother glanced at her with one corner of her mouth quirking up. Dan was speechless, as was the rest of the Great Hall, although some had had managed to mouth ‘young stallion?’ to each other before staring at Harry.

There also appeared to be a rather worn sheet of parchment being passed from table to table with mostly feminine names being scribbled as quickly as possible before moving on to another spot on the table. The parchment didn’t last long in any one spot.

At the Head Table, there was a dearth of conversation. However, several professors sat on the edges of their seats as they observed. Some was wondering what could possibly happen next and knowing that it was probably not in their best interests to tempt fate. A few seemed worried. Some (okay, Professor Flitwick) seemed highly amused.

For her part, after her soliloquy Kateira jiggled and Harry’s face was subjected to low-speed hydrodynamic impact motions before she dragged him out of her cleavage. Before he could recover, she planted a big wet kiss on his forehead and pushed him into Hermione’s waiting arms, snickering at his crossed eyes. The centauride made relatively minor adjustments to her top, which struggled to contain the bounty.

Several people (mostly Ravenclaws) had thoughts that mirrored Professor Flitwick’s earlier thoughts about tensile strength, although a couple wondered whether ‘ductile strength’ was a better fit. The Hufflepuffs appreciated the hard work the garment was putting into its job, while the Gryffindors and Slytherins came to an unspoken and rare agreement that this was quite out of the ordinary, even for Potter.

Harry stood there totally mute, completely shocked and having forgotten to hyperventilate from any questions about Hermione’s ritual. From the looks on the faces of everyone around him, they had forgotten all about it anyway.

Silence reigned for a good ten seconds before a lone voice broke the stillness.

“ _Damn,_ son. Speaking as a Potter myself, I’m impressed with your helping of the old Potter charm. When’s the second wedding?”

“James!”

Harry groaned. It had gotten worse.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

Around the Great Hall, whispers popped like the crackles from a green log.

“ _What_ did she call him? Young stallion?”

“Who is that?”

“Damn, check out the tits on her. Lucky bastard.”

“Wait, if he and she get together… how is that even possible?”

“I’ll worry about that later. I’m busy.”

“Of _course_ you are.”

_Elsewhere..._

“Damn, check out the tits on Hermione.”

“Hush!”

This last was met with a solid _thwack_ on the head of the last speaker and a rushed order to shut up and not let Harry hear. The other whispers continued.

“Who are they… wait, muggles? Who let the filth in?”

“What muggles? I’m more interested in something else right now.”

“What are you… of _course_ you are.”

“Don’t hate because you’re not as lucky as Potter or as gifted as she is. Now shut up, Pansy. I’m busy.”

“Whatever, Draco. Your father and mine will hear about this.”

Kateira flipped her braid back over her shoulder with a quick motion of her head. Most of the braid followed orders but some of it didn’t, remaining somewhat draped on her shoulder. She reached back to throw the rest back. This led to the obvious motions and more whispers, some louder than others.

“Jake! Breathe before you pass out!”

“Tim! Breathe before you pass out!”

“Severus! Breathe before you pass out!”

“Heh. Boobies.”

“Severus!”

“What? I’m busy.”

“Of _course_ you are.”

Several more solid _thwacks_ were heard, although some sounded more hollow than solid.

“Ginny! Sit down before you do something stupid!”

“But that scarlet woman… horse… whatever she is… just…”

“She did. She damn sure did. Wonder if I say I’m his best mate she’ll do that to me?”

“Dean!”

“What? It’s a reasonable question.”

Several heads bobbed in rapid agreement before getting _thwacked._

A little way down the table, there was another discussion.

“Somebody should make sure Ron’s breathing.”

“Just wave a chicken leg under his nose.”

“I did. It didn’t work.”

“Well, don’t ask me! I’m busy!”

“With what… oh, gag me with a spoon.”

“What?”

“Of _course_ you’re busy. Pig.”

For some strange reason, the clink of coins could be heard over the whispers. Everyone who heard looked up to the Head Table. Professor Dumbledore stood there, face flaming under the long beard. For some reason, he was clutching at his right arm. Glances were directed at Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who was trading something between themselves. They looked back.

“What? Don’t you have something better to look at?”

Attention was immediately redirected to the obvious place.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

_Twenty minutes earlier..._

Professor Dumbledore leaned back in his chair wearing fresh robes. He’d been chastised by Lily Potter and had a strip ripped off him, so to speak. If it hadn’t been for Harry and Hermione being present, she probably would have been more literal. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to retire and travel the world.

The Potters, Miss Granger, and Minerva had just left. They wanted to refresh themselves after that harrowing memory before the meal and he frankly couldn’t blame them. He had needed some refreshment himself, but at least his living quarters was nearby. He didn’t have as far to walk.

He looked at the snoozing phoenix by the window, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Of course he wouldn’t, being a basically immortal firebird. Fawkes didn’t trouble himself with a lot of the machinations of others unless it happened to interest him enough. It was either that or unless he could mooch some fresh fruit.

The old man looked at the clock and saw that it was almost time for the noon meal. It was something new today called Chicken Parmesan Burgers. Whatever it was, he was hungry, and the house elves had been trying out the cookbooks that some of the Muggleborn students had brought to Hogwarts. Maybe this would be interesting.

He cleared off his desk and left his office, headed for the Great Hall. As the door closed behind him, Fawkes woke up and traded snickers with the Sorting Hat and some of the more gossipy portraits. Frankly, that was most of them.

“Albus is going to get a surprise,” the Sorting Hat chortled.

\--------===(|< \- >|)===--------

_Now…_

The Sorting Hat had been right. Albus Dumbledore had gotten quite a surprise.


End file.
